The Devil's Life
by Tazz Sparrow
Summary: As a crew member on the Black Pearl, Tazz is finding her niche quite nicely. That is, until trouble shows up in the form of a stowaway. Sequel to The Pirate's Life.
1. Out To Dinner

**A/N:** As promised! The continuing adventure of Tazz and Jack. And to any new readers, 1: this takes place after "Curse of the Black Pearl" and as if "Dead Man's Chest has not happened, and 2: please read "A Pirate's Life" before you embark on this one, otherwise you won't understand much. Enjoy!

* * *

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and groaned as she stretched. To her surprise, two small furry paws plopped themselves on her chin, making her wearily open her eyes. A big black cat lying on her chest came into focus. "Mm... Spooky? What're you doin' here...?" As she woke up a little more, she thought to herself, _Was that... all a dream?_

The ship lurched and Tazz went flying out of her hammock, spilling onto the wood floor.

"Oh, _ow_... Geez..."

Hefting herself off the floor, Tazz rubbed her head and began to dress. Pulling on her pants, she realized she would have to patch up a hole in the left knee. Thankfully, her bandanna was still in good shape. After getting dressed, she opened her door and let Spooky out to hunt the mice and rats aboard the _Black Pearl_. "Your curfew's at two!" she called after his tail.

She walked down the hall that ended with the stairs that led onto the deck. How had she thought all this was a dream? It had been nearly a month since the world was pulled out from under her by the sorceress Calista. She'd had a month to cope with the fact that this era was her true home. Unfortunately, it still gave her a headache if she thought about it too hard...

Climbing up on deck and squinting her eyes from the bright rising sun, she was first greeted by Caleb Arvin, the Irishman she had befriended in Williamsburg. He was busy shoving a mop back and forth on the deck, cleaning up a section that was getting a bit dirty. Tazz teased him a little by standing just out of reach and sticking her tongue out. Caleb swung the mop at her, but she managed to jump back before the dirty water hit her. "I swear, yer like a fox in a chicken coop, you are." He smiled and continued mopping up the deck.

Tazz chuckled and went on her way, heading towards the helm where she knew the captain of this vessel would be. Sure enough, standing at the tiller was Captain Jack Sparrow in all his pirate-y glory. "Where are we, Jack?" she called, standing in front of the half deck and looking up.

Jack smirked and pointed off the port side of the ship. "Jamaica," he said.

Turning around, Tazz saw the island of Jamaica a few miles to their left. She smiled a little, then turned back to Jack. "And just where will we be docking in Jamaica?"

"Well, we're merely dropping Will off. He plans to head to Port Royal in one of the boats." Jack rolled his eyes. "Says he wants a few weeks off. I don't plan to dock till we hit Tortuga, then we're having a nice long break."

Tazz nodded. "Sounds good to me."

It was noon when they neared the Port Royal harbor. As usual, they docked just outside the inlet and out of sight, then began lowering a boat down. One of the other pirates was going to take Will to shore, then come right back with the boat so they could get to Tortuga. Tazz watched the pirate Dawson climb down into the boat, then glanced up to see Jack clapping Will on the back and telling him to hurry up his vacation.

Will laughed and shook his head. "I'm not skimping on this leave just to come back to this ship early. I need this." He said his various goodbyes to the crew. He finally turned to Tazz. "And you. You are the reason I'm never going to forget this little adventure."

Tazz grinned. "I'm flattered. See you around Will."

Will nodded and climbed down into the waiting boat. Dawson grabbed the oars and began to head for the Port Royal docks. "I'll be back soon, Cap'n," he called.

Jack waved one last time before they rounded the cliff the _Pearl_ was hidden behind and vanished from sight.

In the twenty minutes it took before the boat came back, Tazz had taught Jack how to play Rock Paper Scissors. They were sprawled across the deck playing over and over again until Jack quit, tired of losing more often than winning. Tazz had taunted him for a minute before finding a piece of parchment and a small stick of kohl. Then she sprawled back out and began to doodle. Jack had merely flopped onto his back, his arm laid across his eyes to block out the sun. Finally, Jonesy, the lookout, shouted out that the boat was returning. Jack looked up and called, "How far is Dawson?"

Jonesy didn't reply for a long moment. "Well sir," he finally called back, "I don't know. Cuz either Dawson has stolen Will's skin, or it's Will that's returnin'."

Everyone but Tazz roused from relaxing and stood on the side of the ship, watching none other than Will row up to the _Pearl_. Jack blinked in befuddlement as Will climbed up the rope and back onto the deck. "What in blazes are you doin' back so soon? Vacation over already?"

Will laughed and shook his head once more. "Hardly... I have news."

Jack looked worried. "Good or bad?"

"Good," Will assured. "Well, I _hope_ it's good, anyway. Elizabeth wants us for dinner," he said to Jack.

"You'll give her indigestion," Tazz said immediately, not looking up.

Jack cast a reproachful stare at Tazz, then turned back to Will. "So am I correct to assume that we're permitted in Port Royal now?" he asked.

"Apparently so," Will replied. "Elizabeth has ways of getting her way..."

"I've noticed," Jack muttered, then smiled. "Well. When is this dinner and who's invited?"

"It's at six o' clock and it will be just me, Elizabeth, you... and a date if you wish. Elizabeth said it, not me," he added quickly at Jack's stare.

Jack nodded slowly, his eyes traveling to Tazz. "Devil, will you be my date?" he asked, a lilting tone to his voice.

Tazz stopped her sketching and slowly lifted her gaze to Jack. She stared at him for a long minute before looking back at her parchment and continuing her sketch. "So sorry Jack, but I haven't a _thing_ to wear."

Jack grinned. "Nonsense! There's _plenty _of dresses in the hold."

Tazz shot him a dirty look. "Dinner parties aren't really my thing, and neither are dresses."

"Oh, but I'll look a fool if I show up all by me onsie," Jack continued, the lilt still in his voice.

"So sorry for you."

Jack huffed and hauled Tazz to her feet, pulling her a few steps away. "You're goin', luv," he muttered to her. "Ain't no way I'm sufferin' alone." He shepherded her below decks. "Now go on, fine somethin' pretty."

"Oh you have got to be fucking _kidding_ me..." he heard Tazz grumble in annoyance.

He gave the passage Tazz had just disappeared down a strange look and returned to Will. "This is going to be interesting..."

--------------------

Will had been at the governor's mansion for nearly half an hour. He had been spending some quality time with Elizabeth before six rolled around; then he began to anticipate Tazz and Jack's arrival.

At six fifteen there was a knock at the door. Will and Elizabeth jumped up and hurried from the parlor to the foyer just as the doorman ushered a couple inside.

Their jaws dropped.

Jack's hair was tamed. It hung in gentle waves past his shoulders and was brushed to a shine. All the beads and trinkets were gone and the ever-present red bandanna was nowhere to be seen. There was still the faintest trace of kohl around his eyes, but it seemed to help the outfit as opposed to hinder it. He wore a rather nice black suit coat over a white dress shirt, a white kerchief around his neck. The ensemble was finished off by long dark breeches... and his boots. Well, everything couldn't be perfect.

But for as nice as Jack cleaned up, Tazz cleaned up better. Her honey-colored hair was swept up atop her head, held in place by a black silk ribbon. Her eyes, too, were traced with a thin line of kohl and her lips shimmered with a gloss. She wore a stunning red gown that hung off the shoulders and had an almost corset-like bodice that accentuated her slim waist. The dress gently flared at the hips and trailed to the floor behind her. Each seam of the dress was trimmed with golden brocade.

Jack smirked. "Do you greet all your guests with your mouths hangin' open."

Will recovered first. "How in the world...? You _are_ the same people I left on the _Black Pearl_ this afternoon, correct?"

"We're stunt doubles," Tazz said.

Elizabeth recovered as well. "Are you sure you're a pirate captain?" she asked Jack. "You look incredible!"

Jack winked. "Secret of the profession, luv." He laughed. "Ye shoulda seen the crew's reaction. They 'bout bloody-well died. Though I must say they were more impressed with _her _than me." He jerked his head towards Tazz.

Tazz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well I'm not holding your arm on ceremony. I _really_ can't walk in these shoes."

Jack laughed again. "And that's no exaggeration. Had to practically _carry_ her up here."

"You did not, you liar... You just had to catch me in the many times I fell."

Will chuckled and murmured to Elizabeth, "Well, they _look_ like different people, at least."

Elizabeth nodded and gestured through the doorway she and Will had come through. "Come into the parlor. Supper should be ready within fifteen minutes."

The two pairs of people strolled to the parlor and sat in the overstuffed chairs that were there. Tazz had a bit of trouble finding a way to sit so all the fluff in the skirt of her dress didn't puff up all around her, finally deciding to sit at the edge of the chair. "I don't understand how someone can wear this much brocade and not be classified as a Mardi Gras float..." she muttered to herself.

Jack snickered to himself behind his hand, then in response to Tazz's look, he turned it into a cough. "Sorry, I think I must be comin' down with something'..."

Will smiled and leaned forward slightly. "So how _did_ the crew react to... this?" He gestured to the new and improved pirates.

"I thought the laughter would never stop when I came on deck," Jack replied. "They were just in regular hysterics." He glanced to Tazz and smirked cruelly. "Then _she_ comes saunterin' out of my cabin... I've never heard the deck so silent. Didn't last long, though, cuz as soon as the boys composed themselves, the cheers and howls were deafening. Some of 'em _never_ composed themselves, though, and just kept starin'. Thought Jonesy was gonna fall right out of the crow's nest..."

"Well that quiet bunch must have been _awfully_ sparse, cuz I certainly didn't notice them," Tazz interjected. "I almost lost my hearing on that deck."

Will and Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, I wish I could have seen that," Will said. "You know you're just going to get it again when you head back to the ship, right?"

"Oh yes, I know," Jack said. "Thankfully, many of them will be out and about in the city. They're enjoyin' the new atmosphere." That reminded him... "Elizabeth, luv... how _did_ ye manage to talk yer father into lettin' us dock here?"

Elizabeth smiled secretly. "I just had to say 'please' and bat my eyelashes."

Jack thought that tactic over. "Come to think of it, when a woman does that to me and I say yes to whatever she wants, as well..."

Tazz let out a quick burst of laughter. "You're just too charming for your own good, aren't you Sparrow?"

"I try, luv," Jack replied, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Tazz had just insulted him.

Tazz rolled her eyes as Will and Elizabeth held back laughter. "And this is who I am stuck with for the rest of my life, ladies and gentlemen..."

Jack glanced at her. "I can just leave ye here, Devil."

"In this outfit?" Tazz asked, shocked at the mere idea. "You must be mental."

Before a match of wits could break out, one of the servants of the house entered the parlor and announced that dinner was served. The four got to their feet, some not as steadily as others, and traversed to the dining room. The long table, which could probably had seated twenty comfortable, only had four settings at one end. Once everyone was seated, two servants wheeled out two carts of covered dishes.

As the servants dished placed the dishes on the table, Tazz was busy staring at the many pairs of silverware that lined either side of her plate. She blinked in confusion. Were five forks really necessary?

Jack raised a brow at her. "Intimidated by the spoons, luv?" he asked.

Tazz shook her head slowly. "I have no idea what I'm looking at here..."

"What, you didn't use silverware in New Jersey?"

"Oh, I did," Tazz replied. "But I only ever needed one pair. This is just... superfluous."

"I recommend starting from the outside and moving your way in," Will advised. "That generally works for me."

Elizabeth cast him a look and sighed. "I offered to teach you, but you turned it down. So don't start complaining."

Tazz looked up as the final covered dish was set down on the table. With a somewhat elegant motion, the servant pulled the lid off... revealing a small pig, head and all, staring at her. Tazz's eyes were about three times larger and she held back a squeak. "Um... Jack?"

Jack looked up from the food being placed on his plate. "Hm?"

"It's, uh... It's looking at me."

After a moment of staring at the pig, then back to Tazz, Jack stifled a chuckle and simply turned the plate around so that it faced Elizabeth. "There. Better?"

Tazz nodded, but Elizabeth didn't quite agree. "Well now it's staring at me."

Jack rolled his eyes. "No one's ever satisfied..." He shifted the plate once more. "There. Now everyone's happy."

Will cast a flat look to Jack. "So I'm supposed to gaze at it all evening, then?"

Jack smirked and dug into his plate. "Deal with it."


	2. Unwanted Guest

The dinner went by without a hitch, and once the plates were cleared away, the group of four went to the foyer to say their goodbyes. As the door shut behind them, Tazz immediately bent over and took off the torture devices known as high heels. Holding her dress up in one hand and the shoes in another, she smiled cheerily and began heading down the road.

"Well, that went generally well," Jack stated, walking hands-in-pockets beside her.

"I still say it's unnerving to eat something while it's looking soulfully at you," Tazz replied.

"Can a dead pig look soulful?"

"You'd be surprised."

After about five minutes of walking downhill, the docks came into view. To Tazz's surprise, much of the crew were taking the boats back to the _Pearl_ and getting aboard. Jack looked up and checked the stars briefly. "Right on time," he murmured to himself.

"We aren't staying in port for the night?" Tazz asked.

"Nah. Elizabeth may say it's okay, and we may have gotten away with it tonight, but I'm wary about overstaying our welcome in Port Royal. Especially not with Norrington running around." Jack momentarily frowned, but it quickly faded. "We best be on our way to Tortuga."

"How many days sailing are we looking at?"

"Three, if the weather is on our side. Maybe four," Jack replied, lifting the boat off its side and put a hand on either side of it. "Now come on, in with ye."

Tazz walked on the sand towards the only boat left on the beach. As Jack held it still, she plopped down onto one of the seating boards, spending the next minute beating her puffy skirt into submission. Jack then pushed the boat into the water and hopped in before he got his boots wet, taking up the oars and rowing towards the ship. "Well Jack," Tazz said after a moment, "I guarantee you're never going to see me in a dress ever again. And personally, I say good riddance. Damn things are a pain in the butt..."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Eh, I can't see ye climbing up to the crow's nest in that thing, anyway. I think I'll live. The rest o' the crew, on the other hand..."

"They can bite me," Tazz interjected. "They got their whore fix in by now. This contraption is not necessary to appease them." She paused. "In fact, I don't give a damn if they're appeased of not. They can get blue-balled from here to kingdom come for all I care."

Jack winced. "Now that's just plain mean."

A minute later, the boat reached the side of the _Pearl_ and Tazz and Jack scaled up the side onto the deck, Jack first of course. As Tazz was about to swing up onto the deck, she paused, her brow furrowing, then leaned her head towards the deck and sniffed. "Lilac?" she muttered to herself. Shrugging it off, she pulled herself on deck, Jack right behind, while a few other crewmen set to work at getting the boat out of the water.

As expected, the men on deck went back into their howling frenzy as soon as Tazz was back on board. She cast a quick glare, but quickly hid it behind a sly grin. With her long fingers, she pulled the black ribbon out of her hair, letting it cascade around her face and shaking her head coyly. And just as the men were beginning to get their hopes up for a show... Tazz rounded on them with a sneer and a middle finger.

There was a collective groan from the _Black Pearl_ as it set off towards Tortuga.

--------------------

A day at sea passed without any interest, but that night, Jack decided to throw a random shindig. A handful of crew members dug out some instruments and sat to one side of the deck and played lively tune after lively tune while the rest of the crew either sang, some drunkenly, or danced around like children.

Tazz spent the first part of the party sitting against a rail and watching her crewmates make fools of themselves, smiling at their silliness and swinging her head in time to the music. Ten minutes later, that peaceful enjoyment was brought to a halt when Caleb skipped up to her, grabbed her hand, and hauled her out into the dancing. At first Tazz resisted, but the music was infectious and she soon found herself laughing and dancing with the rest of them.

As the song continued, Caleb passed Tazz off to Jonesy, the second of four lookouts on the _Pearl_. Erick Jones by full name, Jonesy was only a year or two younger than Caleb, but rivaled the Irishman in stature. He had shaggy reddish-blonde hair that fell into his eyes. Those eyes were a stormy blue color, and were never without a glint of humor. He was a renowned flirt, and with his constant wolfish smirk, his favorite target was Tazz.

"Well, 'ello there Devil," he said with his cockney accent. "Fancy meetin' you 'ere."

"Ah, yes, on the ship, of all places," Tazz replied cheekily.

Jonesy twirled her around and went skipping around the deck with her, but as well as he could dance, he eventually made a misstep. His boot somehow got caught in the large hole in the knee of Tazz's pants, and as he stepped down, the bottom half of Tazz's pant leg went with him. The loud _rip_ didn't go unnoticed, and much of the jigging crew stopped to stare as Tazz inspected her pants.

She blinked a few times. "Well, that's just nice..."

Jonesy held up his hands placatingly. "Now wait a second, Devil. I can fix it."

Tazz stared at him incredulously. "You can sew?"

"No," he replied, getting onto one knee. "I can make it even." Before Tazz could protest, Jonesy took a hold of her other pant leg and ripped away the bottom half, indeed making her uneven pants into even shorts.

There was a long moment of silence as Tazz stared at the strips of black fabric around her boots. Slowly, she stepped out of them and kicked them away, then turned to Jonesy. "You know Jonesy, I know you're trying to get into my pants and all, but at this rate, there aren't going to be any pants left."

Tazz wasn't mad; Jonesy could breathe again. And the music and dancing continued.

Even though she and Jonesy were playfully at odds, they danced around laughing for a few more minutes before Tazz was passed off to another crew member. By the time everyone was too tired to keep merrymaking, Tazz had probably been dancing with each member of the crew... twice. Simple to say, she was wiped out. As the last note of the last song ended, she dramatically spun around and fell to the deck.

"Bed time."

--------------------

Another day and night passed at sea. On the morning of the third day, Tazz was awakened by a rapping at her door. She groggily opened her eyes and looked around in the dark. Were they at Tortuga already? No, it was still at least another half a day's journey... "Oh, this had better be good..." Tazz grumbled, getting off her hammock and pulling on her new shorts and bra. "Yeah, gimme a second!" she shouted when the knock came again.

Since she knew it was too early for it to be her watch yet, she left her ensemble at the bra and shorts and walked the two steps to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open slightly.

What she saw was the last thing she expected.

A girl looking only about seventeen was standing in the hallway. She had hair the color of gold that curled in ringlets around her face. Her wide eyes were sapphire blue and she wore a long blue dress trimmed with silver brocade. Her hands were folded in front of her, and the faint scent of lilies seemed to come off her.

Tazz had to blink a few times before it fully registered what was staring back at her. "Who the hell are _you_?" she finally asked.

The girl looked as if nothing was out of place. "I'm Gabrielle Cellini. Jack sent me to get you. He said you were to watch me."

Tazz went very still. "Excuse me." She pushed past the girl and walked swiftly down the hall, then bounded up the stairs and onto the deck. Judging by the sun, it was only about eight AM. She ignored the stares she was receiving and headed straight for the helm. A wolf whistle came from the crow's nest. "Shove it, Jonesy!" she snapped. She stalked up to the base of the stairs and glared up at Jack, who was staring at her as if she'd gone crazy.

"What in the world are ye doing?" he asked.

"What the hell is the big idea?" Tazz sniped. "Who's the kid?!"

A sly grin spread across Jack's face. "She's a stowaway from Port Royal. Just found her this morning in the cargo hold. Don't right know how she got in there, though."

"So let's take her home," Tazz sniped, gesturing back in the direction the ship had just come. "We've only been sailing a day."

"Why so cranky, Devil?" Jack asked.

Tazz stared at Jack for a long moment. "What time is it?"

"About eight-thirty."

"I'm up an hour early!" She headed up the stairs and stopped at the top. "Why send her to me, Jack? Did I do something wrong? Did I do something to merit a punishment?"

Jack chuckled. "No. It's just you're fairly new here too, so –"

"No. I hate people, remember?"

"Ye like the crew just fine."

"In my mind, pirates aren't people."

Jack stopped and thought a moment. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"A compliment," Tazz rumbled. "Jack, I am _not_ playing babysitter to that girl. I'm not. Find someone else."

"There is no one else, Devil," Jack replied, leaning heavily against the tiller. "I need ye to watch her and to keep her outta trouble until we're done with our leave in Tortuga and we can take her back."

Tazz sighed in relief. "So she's not here permanently?"

"No! Only until we head back in that direction," Jack confirmed.

"Don't scare me like that, you jerk."

Jack laughed again. "Yeah, yeah... Now go put some proper clothes on. Ye look like you're just waitin' to get jumped on."

--------------------

Tazz felt like she had a puppy. She was a cat person, really... This girl Gabrielle had succeeded in following on her heels just about everywhere. And she never stopped talking...

"My father owns a big house in Port Royal. He's a navy captain. We're very rich and we have servants to do everything for us. And every day when Daddy comes home, he brings me a present."

Tazz whirled around on the girl. "Then why are you here?!" she snarled, holding back the urge to throw the girl overboard.

Gabrielle blinked in polite befuddlement. "It was dull, of course," she replied, sounding as if Tazz should have already known this fact.

_Throwing her overboard in three... two... one..._ Fortunately for Gabrielle, the bell rung, signifying the change of shifts. Tazz practically bolted towards the mainmast and began to climb up into the rigging. Looking down, and to her horror, she saw Gabrielle trying to find footholds in the ropes. "Get off that rigging right now!" Tazz yelled, emphasizing every word.

Gabrielle stepped back onto the deck and looked confused. "Aren't I supposed to follow you?"

"You even _think_ about following me up here and you will regret it," Tazz answered darkly, then continued climbing. She passed Jonesy a quarter of the way up.

He seemed surprised to see her in the rigging already. "Never seen ye _this_ eager for watch," he said, leaning to the side to give her room to pass.

Tazz laughed humorlessly and climbed up next to him. "I don't usually have to deal with _that_ for an hour straight," she said, jerking her head towards Gabrielle.

Jonesy glanced down. "That bad, aye?" He shook his head in sympathy. "But if it brightens yer mornin', ye got nice bosoms, Devil."

Two seconds later, Jonesy hit the deck hard.


	3. Therapy

**A/N:** Sorry this took me so long to get up. I've been uber busy. But this chapter's nice and long to make up for the delay. Enjoy!

* * *

The crow's nest was peaceful. She could ignore all the bustle from the deck and just listen to the sea and the birds. It was just what she needed to unwind. If she had to spend another minute with that girl, one of them would die.

Suddenly, another person was thudding into the nest.

Tazz spun around to see who was invading her space, but held off a punch when she saw Caleb crouched next to her. She paused a moment. "What are you doing?" she asked flatly.

"Hiding," Caleb replied. He carefully peeked up over the nest's rim. "She followin' me?"

Tazz arched a brow. "You're running from Ana Maria?"

"No, not Ana Maria," Caleb muttered. "That stowaway! She's been followin' me everywhere. I can't even _piss_ in peace."

"Too much information, thank you Caleb," Tazz said. "Well, seeing as I can relate to your plight, you can hide out up here as long as you need to." She glanced down onto the deck only to see the frilly teenager looking around for something, probably Caleb. "Maybe she'll leave _me_ alone now that she has a boy to bother."

Caleb glared at her as he got comfortable in the crow's nest. "So glad I can be of help," he grumbled.

Tazz went back to scanning the horizon. "I don't understand how that girl got aboard. For crying out loud, she's damn near an eyesore, and probably not the best ninja in the world." She turned to Caleb. "Any ideas?"

Caleb shrugged. "I'm as stumped as you. I was on skeleton crew last night, and none of us saw a damn thing."

"She's wearing a bright blue dress. How could no one see that?"

"No she wasn't," Caleb corrected. "That blue one she's wearin' was from the cargo hold. I remember stealin' it off a lady." He grinned and winked.

Tazz rolled her eyes. "Okay, so she was wearing a different dress, but still... How did none of you guys see a petite blonde pain-in-the-ass crawl onto the deck?"

Caleb glanced to the left and back. "I dunno."

Tazz turned fully around and crossed her arms over he chest. "Why do I get the feeling there's something you're hiding, Arvin?"

Caleb frowned. "Pardon?"

"You're fidgeting. Now let's try this again. How did no one notice a small blonde girl crawling onto the deck of a pirate ship?"

Caleb shifted in the crow's nest and stared at Tazz. "Okay, we were playing poker below decks," he hissed, eyes wider than usual. "But don't tell Captain Jack. He'll kill us!"

"As he rightfully should," Tazz sniped. "Caleb, there's a stowaway on the ship. And not just any stowaway; an _annoying_ stowaway! Hell, _I_ should kill you."

"I'd prefer you not," Caleb quipped. "But that's just my opinion."

"And we all know your opinion doesn't matter," Tazz added, still scowling. She looked back down to the deck and watched the teenaged troublemaker flounce around like it was some kind of vacation for her. The scowl worsened. "Don't know why Jack wouldn't just let me toss her overboard..." she muttered. She glanced at the tiller, but Ana Maria was at the helm instead of Jack. Tazz straightened up. "Huh... Speaking of our slightly-off-kilter captain, where _is_ he?"

Caleb peeked up over the nest rim as well, careful not to let Gabrielle see him. "That's a brilliant question, Devil," he said after a moment. "He usually never leaves the deck during the day. Wonder if somethin's up."

"Nothing that's 'up' is bothering me. It's what's 'down' that's the problem."

Turning her head towards the voice, Tazz was confounded to see Jack swinging into the crow's nest. After a moment of perplexed silence, she asked, "Can I help you, Mr. Sparrow?"

Jack merely shrugged and looked off at the horizon. "Not particularly, my dear Devil. Just, uh... looking. Yes, just up for the nice view."

Tazz and Caleb glanced at each other, then looked out to see what Jack was staring at. A minute later, after seeing nothing but sea, they both shared another confused look. "Uh, Cap'n? You feelin' alright?" Caleb asked tentatively.

Jack turned, as if he hadn't realized Caleb was in the nest too. "How did you get up here, Arvin?" he asked, brow furrowed.

Caleb blinked slowly. "I climbed, sir... about ten minutes ago."

"Well why are you still up here, man?" Jack exclaimed. "Back to the deck!"

Caleb went scurrying down the rigging without another word. The crow's nest wasn't really big enough for three people anyway...

Once Tazz saw Caleb back on deck and sneaking off to hide elsewhere, Tazz turned back to Jack and set her mouth in a confused quirk. "Okay, I realize this may be a pointless question, but... what's wrong with you?"

Jack frowned at her. "Who says anything's wrong?"

Tazz shrugged and held up her hands to show that she was backing down. "Okay, okay. Nothing's wrong, then." She tilted her head to one side. "It's the stowaway, isn't it?" she guessed.

Jack looked at her strangely. "What are ye, psychic?"

"Hardly," Tazz said, "but seeing as she's driving everyone else insane, I don't see why you'd be an exception."

"She is not driving me crazy," Jack refuted quickly.

"True, you're already crazy, so maybe you're immune," Tazz said, somewhat to herself. "Come on Jack, admit that the little twerp is driving you up the wall and you can't wait to get her off the ship."

Jack looked at her curiously. "And what if I admit if everything you say is completely and undeniable fact and or undisputed truth, aye? What then?"

Tazz had to think over what he said for a moment before replying. "Nothing. You'd just be in the same boat, no pun intended, as the rest of the crew."

Jack was silent a moment. "Alright, she's driving me batty and if the crew wouldn't mutiny against me, I'd take her back to Port Royal now. But the crew needs a nice long leave, and I'm gonna give it to 'em."

"Well, at least you've got some semblance of respect for your crew," Tazz muttered, rolling her eyes. "But I still say we just lock her in the cargo hold and don't let her out till we reach Jamaica."

"Has anyone ever mentioned that you're frighteningly cruel?"

"You have, many a time..."

"Oh. Nevermind, then."

"Well, since we're both hiding up here," Tazz said a minute later, "at least start up a decent conversation."

Jack's mouth curved up slightly. "Am I here to amuse you, Devil?"

"Considering you're a guest in my private bubble right now, yes," Tazz replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Oh well, he wasn't in the mood to argue right now, anyway. Jack thought for a second, dramatically holding a finger to his chin and looking off. "Alright, what's your favorite food?"

Tazz nearly fell over. "You've gotta be kidding me," she grumbled. "Is that the best you could think of?"

"Well then _you_ think of something," Jack threw back. "Tell me something I don't know about ye."

Tazz checked her imaginary watch. "Well, considering we're nearly two months into my being on this ship, that doesn't leave much."

"How do you figure?"

"I don't figure, I know. The only questions I ever get from you are either about me and my past or 'does it look like rain?'. Come on, Jack," Tazz prodded. "Tell me something about _you_ for once. I'm tired of always divulging stuff about myself and not learning anything in return."

Jack blinked a few times. Hell, did _anyone_ know anything about him? Had he ever told anyone _anything_ about himself? No, probably not... He scratched his chin a moment. "Alright, what do ye wanna know?"

"Well, let's start somewhere simple," Tazz said. "Tell me about your family."

Jack froze. That was one topic he generally avoided at all costs. But she had a point. He'd been pestering her for weeks about her personal life. It was only fair... Wait, since when was he fair?

No, no, Tazz was right... Sighing, Jack leaned against the nest's rim and began talking. "I was an only child. Had a pirate dad and a... less that respectable mum, so I didn't exactly grow up in high society."

"Well, I can see that," Tazz chuckled. "Continue."

Jack rolled his eyes, but kept speaking. "I've been at sea for as long as I can remember. Sailed with my dad when I was young; learned the ways of being a pirate by watching him. Once I got older, I left my father's crew to set out on my own. Started out small, gaining alliances wherever I could, then eventually –"

"Now, now, Sparrow, you're getting off topic," Tazz interrupted him. "I want to know about your family, not your career."

Jack narrowed one eye and stared at Tazz. "Why do you wanna know so much about my family?" he asked.

Tazz paused, then shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe it's cuz I never had one of my own."

"Now come on, ye had to've had a family growin' up."

Tazz shook her head. "Nope, never. Not a proper one, anyways. I got bounced from foster family to foster family all my life, until I was old enough to be on my own. I never stayed in one place for more than a year, sometimes only a month or so." She glanced at Jack. "Now even _you_ can't say that that's a real family life."

Jack nodded. "Yep, you're right. Now go on."

Tazz let out a long breath. "Being a foster kid was... unnatural, to say the least. Most families didn't know how to deal with me and just kind of left me to my own devices. Others insisted I be 'social' with the other kids at various schools, and signed me up for every extra-curricular activity known to man. I did everything from violin to kick-boxing to dance classes. And then there were... other people. Some only took in foster kids for the money we provided them. I remember sleeping on a broken air mattress in the basement of some ramshackle old hovel..." She went quiet a moment, her eyes focused on something Jack couldn't see. A minute later, Tazz's eyes suddenly snapped back to the present and she turned on Jack. "You did it again!" she shouted. "How do you _do_ that?"

Jack was completely taken aback. "Do _what_?"

"Get out of telling me anything and getting _me_ to tell you more."

Jack paused. "I don't right know, luv," he replied. "But since we're on the subject... You led a pretty rough childhood."

Tazz smiled sourly. "Yeah, well the past is just that: the past. And all it did was make me stronger, so there's no point crying over it." She sighed. "If I were given the chance to exchange my past for another, one with a family and no worries and security 24/7... I don't think I would. The way I see it, if I lived any different than I had, I wouldn't be me. And who wants a me that isn't me, huh?"

Jack uncrossed his eyes and quickly nodded. "Quite right, there, Devil." He quickly cleared his throat and unjumbled his mind. "But... isn't there a part of you that fancies to know who your parents are?"

Tazz scowled slightly. "I suppose I don't really _want_ to know them," she said. "From what little Calista said, my father was probably just some customer, never to be seen again... and if my mother was callous enough to hand over her infant child to a sorceress without a second thought, then..." Tazz stopped herself. She was speaking through her teeth, and the anger radiating off her made her feel hot. She pressed her lips together and frowned, looking away. "No one like that deserves to be called a mother, anyway."

Jack let her cool down a moment before continuing. "It's not good to walk around with that much anger and spite boiling inside ye, Devil. Eventually it'll just consume ye."

Tazz laughed humorlessly. "I never expected you to be a therapist, Jack."

Jack shrugged. "I'm a people person, what can I say?"

Tazz rolled her eyes and looked out towards the sea again. "We're sailing between Cuba and Haiti now. We should be at Tortuga by this evening." She looked back to Jack and smirked. "What do you think Anna's gonna say?"

Jack gave another nonchalant shrug. "Well, your hair's still fine, so at least she won't bother killin' me..."


	4. Dress To Kill

**A/N:** I'm so sorry this took me forever to get up. My old muse died and it took me a while to find a new one. The new one's name is Bonnie, aka LadyAura on this site. You should check out her page, she rocks. Seriously, this chapter would not exist without her help, so give her some love.

And without further ado, chapter 4!

* * *

Tazz couldn't believe she was actually glad to see Tortuga again. Maybe it was due to a warped sense of nostalgia, or maybe it was just the prospects of getting off the ship for more than two days, but she made sure she was first in line for the gangplank onto the docks.

Oh, sweet solid land! Dirt had never looked so appealing. Sure, she could do without the sickly-sweet odor that seemed to permeate the very island itself, but it could be overlooked. She was ashore!

"Not to interrupt yer jig or anything, but maybe you could move it about three feet to yer left?"

The Irish brogue made Tazz turn. Standing behind her with a heavy-looking chest on his shoulder was Caleb. Smiling sheepishly, Tazz moved out of the middle of the path and fell into step with him. "What's in the chest?" she asked.

"Dead cats," Caleb replied immediately. At Tazz's look of complete and utter horror, he edited himself. "I was just kiddin', Devil! Honest. It's just some silver plates an' such fer me t' sell." Tazz still stared at him wide-eyed. "Oh good grief... Want me t' show ye?"

"Don't _do_ that," Tazz snapped, her gaze shifting to a glare. "If you don't recall, I'm a cat owner."

Caleb grinned. "Aw, now I'd never hurt Spooky an' you know it. He's too good a mouser. Our grain stores've never been safer. Besides," he added, "I'm too sweet-hearted to actually kill anythin' small and relatively cute."

"A sweet-hearted pirate, huh?" Tazz echoed. "Don't let that get around. People will talk."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the scourge of the seas likes bunny rabbits. What next?"

Tazz chuckled to herself. "You want some help with that thing? Looks heavy." She gestured to the chest over Caleb's shoulder.

The Irishman smirked and glanced at her sidelong. "Oh, it is. But what kind of man would I be if I let you strain yer pretty li'l self on my account?"

"Your masculinity astounds me," Tazz said flatly. "Please, allow me to be in awe." She stopped walking, causing Caleb to pause and look over his shoulder. Tazz stood where she had stopped, simply staring at him with her mouth open in mock amazement.

Caleb let out a quick laugh and shook his head, continuing towards the shops. "Fox in a chicken coop," he said once more. "Well, these things aren't gonna sell themselves. I'll catch ye this evening, a'right?"

Tazz nodded and waved vaguely as she watched Caleb head further down the crowded street. She stood for a moment, watching all the drunken hustle and bustle of the city, all while wondering where she could occupy herself. All at once, the grating sound of Gabrielle's high-pitched whine found her ears. The words were indistinct, but the griping tone probably meant she wanted to see the pirate town up close.

There were a few more mumbles of conversation, then Jonesy's loud cry of, "But why do _I_ have to watch her?!" carried down into the street. "I'm no good at babysittin'," he continued. "Couldn't ye find someone a little more _suited_ to this kind of thing?"

Tazz jolted, her eyes widening, before taking off down the street. "Caleb, wait for me!"

--------------------

After hawking off his wares, Caleb decided he needed someone to help him spend his hard-earned money. Tazz was, apparently, a good candidate for this mission, because she was immediately drafted and dragged along into the market.

She watched as seedy-looking merchants traded items with seedier-looking customers. Still slightly on edge, Tazz kept close to Caleb, even though he seemed oblivious to the questionable nature of the townsfolk. Even though the roads were dirt and the strip mall hadn't been invented yet, she couldn't help but be reminded of mallratting at home. Some semblance of air conditioning would have been nice, but that, too, was about two hundred years from conception.

Tazz was jarred out of her reverie after running into Caleb's back when he stopped suddenly. Grumbling and rubbing her forehead, she leaned around his shoulder and frowned at him. "A warning would have been nice, you know..."

Ignoring her, or perhaps just not hearing her, Caleb spun around. In his hands was a frilly monstrosity of a dress, which he then held up to Tazz, as if imagining it on her.

"You must be kidding."

Caleb grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Aww, why not?" he pouted. "It would be ever-so-sophisticated on ye."

Tazz smacked him in the stomach, knocking the dress aside in the process. "It's not even a nice color," she muttered. "And the ruffles are just obnoxious."

Putting the dress down, Caleb's face lit up, and Tazz immediately knew she'd said the wrong thing. Before she could open her mouth, Caleb leapt on it like Spooky on a catnip mouse.

"So if I found the right dress, ye'd wear it?" he asked gleefully. Without letting Tazz reply, he grabbed her hand and raced off down the street, pulling her behind.

They skidded to a stop in front of a dressmaker's shop. Not a tent, not a cart, but an actual tradesman's shop, bell on the door and all. Caleb gave another wild grin and flung open the door, stepping inside.

He came to a sudden halt as his arm jerked backwards. Looking back, he saw Tazz clinging to the doorway with her free hand, her feet braced against the frame. She reminded him of a cat clinging to the sides of a tub so as to not get wet. Caleb gave her a patronizing look and tugged the hand he was holding, but Tazz didn't budge. Frowning after another tug failed to dislodge her, the Irishman slowly smirked and reached out, lightly tickling her free arm. An instant later, Tazz instinctively curled up to keep Caleb's hand away, but was then yanked through the doorway and into the little shop of horrors.

A seamstress looked up from arranging a cream-colored gown. Smiling a little, she brushed her long brown hair out of her face and walked over to where the pirates stood. Tazz noticed little sewing knickknacks protruding from all over her. There were pencils and chalk in her hair, pins stuck in her skirt, and even a coil of measuring tape at her waist.

"Hello," the seamstress greeted, almost _too_ cheerfully. Tazz was once again reminded of shopping in the mall. Turns out the Victoria's Secret saleswomen were the same no matter what era you were in.

Caleb smiled back and said, "We're lookin' fer a dress."

The seamstress smiled politely, but blinked once or twice before replying, "Well, we've got those. How about we get a little more specific, aye?" She raised a brow. "Is it for you or for her?"

Clearing his throat, Caleb smiled awkwardly. "Uh, not me today. One for her." He tilted his head towards Tazz.

Tazz hadn't really heard much of the conversation. She was too acutely aware of Caleb's hand still clasping her own.

The seamstress Bonnie, who was approaching forty, had been around the block more than once. She took in the excited look on Caleb's face, the bewildered look on Tazz's, and their clasped hands. She tapped a marking pencil against her cheek, contemplating the situation, then reached for the measuring tape around her waist.

"So is this for a formal occasion, or just for everyday?" she asked, unraveling the tape.

Caleb donned a confused expression. "There's more than one kind of dress?"

The seamstress looked at him like he was something she might scrape off her shoe. After a moment's pause, "Shoo."

Caleb blinked. "What?"

"Shoo," Bonnie said again, flapping her hands at him. Tazz couldn't help but snicker at the look on Caleb's face, and suddenly felt more at ease about the whole ordeal.

Letting go of Tazz's hand and shuffling off to the back of the shop, Caleb began rummaging through dresses. Meanwhile, Tazz and the seamstress fell into conversation. He didn't know a blasted thing about dresses, but he figured he could probably find one that would look good on Tazz. After a few minutes of searching, he came across a vibrant red dress trimmed in black lace. He pictured the lace against Tazz's fair skin and pulled the dress off the rack, displaying it to the two women. "How 'bout this?" he asked with a flourish.

The women merely stared at him. Grin fading from his features, he dejectedly put the dress back. "Well _I_ thought it was a nice dress," he grumbled to himself.

"Oh, it _is_ a nice dress. I have one just like it."

The voice near his ear made Caleb jump in surprise. Spinning around, he came face to face with a young redheaded woman, presumably another seamstress judging from the pincushion on her wrist. She smiled coyly up at him with scarlet-painted lips and black-lined eyes.

Caleb gave a lopsided smirk. "Well maybe you can help me, then."

"How can I be of service?" she asked, planting a hand on her hip flirtatiously.

Oblivious to her intentions, Caleb fell into a rambling explanation of what he was looking for. The girl nodded along, looking slightly bewildered. After a few moments, she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

Glancing back over her shoulder, the girl took in the image of Tazz speaking with the older woman.

"So is she your wife?" she asked.

Caleb stopped, blinked, then burst out laughing.

Tazz stopped mid-sentence to determine the cause of Caleb's sudden mirth. Her eyes narrowed upon discovering said cause, namely the tramp in the skimpy red dress. She was practically plastered to his side, and appeared to be trying to engulf his arm with her cleavage. Apparently, bimbos were universal as well.

A growl rumbled low in her throat and she started forward, only to be stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Suzette," the older seamstress called in a warning tone. The redheaded strumpet immediately dropped Caleb's arm, pulling back guiltily.

"Yes, _Madame_?"

"Shouldn't you be finishing the embroidery on _Mdme_. Giselle's new dress?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Suzette, her eyes downcast, gave a small, "Yes, _Madame_," then bobbed a curtsy and scurried off to the back room.

Turning back to Tazz, Bonnie smiled once more and nodded in satisfaction. "I believe I have just the dress for you. Wait here." With that, she whisked herself away to the back room.

Suddenly left alone in the shop, Tazz and Caleb found themselves staring at one another. After a moment of awkward silence, Tazz muttered, "She wasn't even that pretty."

Caleb's eyebrow quirked upwards and the smirk returned to his face. "Why do ye say that?"

"She just was," Tazz said defensively, rolling her eyes. "She was short, she wore too much make-up, her hair was ratty, she looked like a ho-bag and she probably just wanted your money..." She trailed off and shifted uncomfortably, then finished off by grumbling, "You should just know better than to trust a girl like that."

The grin didn't leave Caleb's face. "What? A girl like everything that you're not?"

Tazz had no comeback.

"At least she had nice bosoms," Caleb tossed out idly.

A flat glare surfaced on Tazz's face. "Are you saying I don't?" she asked.

It was Caleb's turn to have no comeback.

Tazz gave the ghost of a smirk. The upper hand was now hers! Grabbing the neckline of her shirt, she pulled it down to flash her own cleavage. "At least mine are C-cup," she stated.

Caleb's green eyes nearly shot out of his head, and his jaw fell open. He felt as if he should look away, but somehow, he just couldn't.

Of course, right then the door to the dress shop flew open.

Jonesy came rushing in like his ass was aflame. "_Tazz!"_ he cried. "Tazz, you gotta help me! I've been lookin' for ye everywhere an'... an'..." He stopped, his train of thought derailed at the sight that greeted him.

Quickly pulling her shirt back up, Tazz glared daggers at Jonesy. "Jonesy, what's so important?" she growled through clenched teeth.

Blinking back into reality, Jonesy suddenly remembered what he had chased Tazz down for. "Oh! Tazz, Jack's gonna _kill_ me!"

"Why this time?" she asked, exasperated.

"_Tazz!_" Jonesy shouted, trying to express the gravity of the situation. "I lost the girl!"

The silence that followed was deafening.

"You... what?"

"I lost Gabrielle!"

In a flurry of movement, Tazz had Jonesy by the collar and was centimeters away from biting off his nose. "How did you lose a _girl?!_" she screamed into his face.

"I dunno!" Jonesy howled. "She was whinin' and beggin' to go to the market, so I took her. I turned around for one second an' she was _gone!_"

With a roar of frustration, Tazz let go of Jonesy's collar and shoved him towards the door. "We're looking for her _now_," she seethed, tossing him into the street. Looking back over her shoulder, she gave an apologetic look to Caleb.

The Irishman only shooed her off with a wave of his hand. "Go on, find the brat."

Nodding, Tazz ducked out into the street and went tearing after Jonesy.


	5. Hide And Seek

"How could you lose a _girl_? She's a living, breathing, pain in my ass, not some random object you can misplace. So come on, Jonesy, enlighten me. How did you _lose_ her?!"

Jonesy recoiled slightly from Tazz's verbal assault. "She was with me the whole time, Devil, I swear. I looked away for one second and she was _gone_!"

Tazz put her hand to her face and let out a ragged sigh. "Alright... Let's start over. Where exactly were you when she went missing?"

"A few blocks south of the docks," he replied, nodding his head in the direction they were headed. "Start there?"

"That would be logical," Tazz muttered, putting her hand back at her side. "Come on, then. Let's go."

The pair continued on at a quick stride, all the while peering side to side for a glimpse of curly blonde hair. After a few minutes, Jonesy came to a stop and pointed at the patch of nondescript dirt he was standing on. "I was right 'ere," he said. "She was right next t' me, then I looked over there." He pointed in the direction of a two-story building, two whores standing outside it. Catching a glimpse of the tall pirate, the whores immediately smiled flirtatiously and giggled, beckoning him towards them. Jonesy continued to point, but a sly smile crossed his face.

Tazz was not amused. "Why you..." she growled. She brought her hand down hard on the back of his head, smacking him out of his daydream.

Jonesy leapt away like a startled rabbit and stared at Tazz wildly. "What was _that_ for?" he cried.

She pressed a finger against his forehead. "Can you think with _this_ head for five minutes? Do you mean to tell me that the brat wandered off while you were ogling whores?"

The startled Brit stared wide-eyed at her. "What 'appens if I say 'yes'?"

"I dismember you in the middle of the street."

"Then no."

"Liar."

Jonesy jumped back a step, his hands held up to protect himself in case Tazz came after him. "Might I remind ye, I won't hesitate t' fight a woman t' protect my pride an' joy."

"You have a one track mind, and it's pretty pathetic," Tazz snarled.

With a bark of laughter, Jonesy turned a judgmental eye on Tazz. "Is that right?" he asked. "If I'm so bad, then why were _you_ the one caught flashin' yer bosoms t' Caleb not an hour ago?"

Tazz's mouth fell open. "Don't even bring that up, you cretin. You don't have all the context –"

"Context?" he cut in. "I don't need the _context_. You were flashin' Caleb in a dress shop! An'... what were ye doin' in a dress shop anyway?"

"He dragged me there," Tazz replied defensively.

Jonesy stared at her a moment. "Pity he didn't get ye int' one."

"Excuse me?"

He grinned. "You 'eard me."

Tazz let out a growl of frustration. "Why does everyone want to see me in a dress?" she asked no one in particular.

"Because we don't see enough of Tazz," Jonesy replied.

She slowly lifted her head to stare at him. "Pardon?"

"You're two different people without realizin' it," Jonesy continued. "Everyone sees ye as Devil, and Devil is one of us. A pirate, one of the men. But then there's Tazz, and everyone knows Tazz is a woman. We caught a brief glimpse of 'er as ye went out to dinner at Will's in Port Royal, but then Devil came back full force once more." He gave a lopsided smile. "Maybe you should let Tazz out t' play more often."

Tazz stood in complete and utter shock, not only because all of this made some sort of sense, but also because Jonesy was smarter than he let on. She blinked a few times before shaking her head and bringing her hand up to the back of her neck. "I don't like the idea of having all the problems of being a girl, but none of the perks," she muttered.

Jonesy winked at her. "Well then give it some thought, aye?"

Tazz buried her fingers in her hair and breathed deeply for a few moments. "We're wasting time standing here arguing about my femininity. Think, Jonesy. Where else could she have gone?"

"Anywhere," Jonesy replied, easily forgetting their last conversation. "It's been nearly an 'our since I last saw 'er. She could be anywhere in the city by now. _But_ –" he added hastily as Tazz's fists clenched, "she was talkin' a lot about headin' t' Th' Faithful Bride. Don't ask me why."

"Then we'll head there," Tazz grumbled. "How many ways are there to get there from here?"

"Lots, technically, but only two're likely." Jonesy gestured to two separate roads. "Both're heavily traveled and lead to Th' Faithful Bride."

"Alright, you take that road, I'll take this one, and we'll meet at the tavern. Right?"

"Right," Jonesy said with a nod. "Don't die," he called as he set off.

"Wish I could wish you the same," Tazz muttered as she turned and began walking down the road.

--------------------

Ten minutes later, Tazz stood in the street staring at the front of The Faithful Bride tavern. She had scanned every nook and cranny all the way down the road and there had been no sign of Gabrielle. She was going to throttle that kid when she got her hands around her dainty little neck.

Looking around, she noticed that Jonesy had yet to arrive. Perhaps the other route took longer, or maybe, she hated to get her hopes up, he actually found the brat.

She sighed as both were proven to be false.

Jonesy came tearing down the road at a breakneck speed, an angry black woman chasing after his heels, all while waving her shoe. Upon spotting Tazz standing there, Jonesy went bolting at her, skidding to a stop and hiding behind her. His hands on her hips, he crouched low, peeking around her waist.

The woman came to a halt in front of Tazz, glaring at Jonesy. "Don'cha evah think 'bout comin' neah mah girls 'gin, ya no-good dog." Her accent seemed vaguely Cajun, but Tazz wasn't sure if the Cajun culture even existed yet. "'F I evah catch ya 'round mah establishment again, I'll sic mah sons on ya. Ya heah?"

"Crystal clear, madam," Jonesy replied meekly, still mostly hidden behind Tazz's legs.

Resisting the urge to kick him, Tazz sighed heavily. "Ma'am, I apologize sincerely for whatever this idiot did." She reached around and caught Jonesy by the hair, ignoring his yelp. "Please feel free to hit him with your shoe."

The older woman lifted her gaze from Jonesy to Tazz and gave her an appraising look up and down. "He belong tah you?" she asked indifferently.

Tazz's left eye twitched briefly. "Oh God, no."

"Good, dat one's not'ing but trouble." She whopped Jonesy upside the head with her shoe once before replacing it on her foot and striding off back the way she came.

Tazz and Jonesy didn't move until the woman was out of sight, then Tazz spun around and glared at Jonesy, still holding him by his hair. "I let you alone for ten minutes! What did you do?!"

"Nothin'!" Jonesy cried, wincing at Tazz's painful grip. He brought up his hands and tried to pry her hand out of his hair, or at least to alleviate some of the pressure. "Just the girls a few months ago, and the madam got angry – _ow!_ Would ye _stop that?!_"

Her glare didn't lessen, and her grip didn't ease up. "I should have just let her have you," Tazz growled. "Maybe it would have taught you a lesson."

"Devil, lemme go."

"So you can go off and get into _more_ trouble? Try again."

"Devil, I swear, if you don't let go of my hair..."

"You'll what? Whine more?"

"Tazz!"

Suddenly, Tazz's legs were swept out from under her and she hit the dirt hard, though never releasing Jonesy's hair. Jonesy was yanked to the side with a howl, and when the dust cleared, he was lying on top of a very angry girl.

Tazz was glaring daggers at Jonesy, her hand still clutching his hair. In a voice that was dangerously low, she hissed, "Get off me, Jonesy."

Jonesy didn't look too happy either. "I can't unless ye let me go."

After a short stalemate, Tazz slowly unclenched her hand and let go of Jonesy's hair. Quicker than she could follow, Jonesy trapped her arms over her head with one hand, his face inches from hers.

His usual smirk returned. "I like my hair where it is, Devil. I'd appreciate it if ye didn't rip it out." His free hand traced along her jaw to her chin, his hand then sliding back up to cup her face. "I think I like ye better like this."

The glare on Tazz's face didn't recede. "I will make you wish you'd never been born, Jonesy. Now get... off..."

His smirk widened, but Jonesy then rolled sideways and got to his feet. "You're absolutely right. Find the girl first, pleasure later." He held a hand down to her.

Tazz rolled her eyes, but accepted the help up. "It's a wonder you're not dead yet." After dusting herself off, she asked, "I take it you didn't find her?"

"No. You either, I see."

"Nope." Tazz sighed. "You think she's inside?" She gestured to The Faithful Bride.

Jonesy shrugged. "May as well check an' see, aye?"

"Joy..." Resolutely, Tazz pushed open the door of the tavern and she and Jonesy stepped inside.

The interior was dimly lit and filled to capacity with drunks and whores of all shapes and sizes. Fist fights were going on everywhere, and many objects seemed perpetually airborne as they flew from one end of the tavern to the other. Tazz and Jonesy both ducked as one of said objects, in this case a half-full rum bottle, went soaring over their heads. Tazz scowled. "Jonesy, I swear to any god that may be listening, if we don't find that twit by midnight, _you'll_ go missing too." Easing their heads back up, they weaved their way through the masses of people and managed to make it to the bar.

An older wench, looking to be in her mid-forties, looked up from pouring a pint of ale. "Wot can I get'cha?" she asked, sounding tired.

"Uh, nothing, actually," Tazz said. "We're looking for a young girl that might have come through here. She's around sixteen or seventeen, long curly blonde hair, clean. Seen her?"

The bar wench's eyebrow rose. "T' be honest, I have. Came in not fifteen minutes ago. Little thing was getting' propositioned by every man here with a pulse. Saw 'er run out the back way 'bout ten minutes ago."

Tazz couldn't believe their luck. With a hurried "thank you", she grabbed Jonesy's wrist and, yanking him off balance, hauled him towards the back door. Dodging a few more projectiles along the way, they made it to the large wooden door and shoved their way out.

The back alley was wide. To the right was the street; to the left was a dead end with garbage and crates piled against the walls. And, to their immense surprise, there was Gabrielle, on her hands and knees, halfway under a broken table.

Jonesy blinked a few times. "I'm... confused."

"You're not alone," Tazz mumbled.

His brow knitting together in puzzlement, Jonesy walked forward and stared down at the prissy little girl. After a moment, he reached a hand down and tapped her shoulder. "Oy."

Gabrielle started and smacked her head against the underside of the table. "Owwie," she whined. Backing out from under the broken table, she gazed up at Jonesy.

"What in the nine hells're ye doin'?" Jonesy asked.

She blinked her wide blue eyes up at him. "There's a puppy," she said by means of explanation, pointing under the table.

Jonesy turned and stared at Tazz incredulously.

Tazz blinked right back. "You have _got_ to be joking."

Gabrielle turned, noticing Tazz for the first time. "Hi, Tazz," she greeted, oblivious.

Tazz slowly walked up next to Jonesy. Glancing at each other, they simultaneously sank down and looked under the table.

Sure enough, there sat a small tan and black mutt, a white patch of fur on its stomach. It stared back at them with wide brown eyes, partially obscured by its large floppy ears. The puppy was obviously frightened, most likely a stray judging by its thin appearance.

Rolling her eyes and dropping to her knees, Tazz reached under the table and grabbed the puppy by the scruff of its neck, pulling it out and picking it up. The small ball of fuzz squirmed madly in her arms, whimpering loudly. She tried to keep a grip on it, but it just wouldn't hold still.

Fortunately, Jonesy came to her rescue before she dropped it. "Come on, Tazz, yer holdin' 'im all wrong. Oh, give 'im 'ere." He plucked the puppy out of Tazz's arms and cradled it against his chest. A small smile crossed his face and he bent to murmur calming words into its fur.

Gabrielle leapt to her feet and immediately began fawning all over Jonesy. "Oh, you got the puppy!" she squealed. She snuggled her face into its fur, giggling all the while. Holding Jonesy's arm for support, she got up on tiptoes to see the dog better.

Tazz groaned to herself and crossed her arms over her chest, watching the scene. She ignored Gabrielle easily enough, considering she was still all for strangling the life out of her. Jonesy, on the other hand, surprised her. The look on his face was one she'd never seen him wear before. He was smiling, not leering or smirking or grinning wolfishly, but actually smiling. It made him look younger, and not so devilish. The puppy curled up in his arms merely completed the picture. She raised both brows slightly. "Well, I just learn new things about you every day, don't I?" she asked.

Jonesy looked up and shrugged one shoulder. "I'm full of 'em if ye'd care t' look."

Tazz laughed shortly. "Uh, no thanks. I'm sure most of those surprises would scare me half to death." She paused. "You know, we can't take the dog back."

Gabrielle turned her wide eyes on Tazz, her bottom lip pouting. "But why not?" she pouted.

"Oh I know," Jonesy replied casually, ignoring Gabrielle. "Just gimme one minute 'ere..." Turning, he headed out of the alley mouth and looked up and down the street. Not thirty seconds later, he spotted a young boy of about twelve playing nearby. "Oy, kid," he called.

The boy looked up from what he was doing. "Who? Me?"

"Yeah, you. Come 'ere."

The preteen bounded up to Jonesy, quickly noticing the puppy in his arms. "Yes, sir?" he asked, looking at the canine and not Jonesy.

Jonesy's smirk returned. "Ye want 'im?" he asked simply.

The boy blinked. "Really?"

"May I be struck down if I lie," Jonesy answered back. "Come on, then. 'Old out yer arms."

The boy did as asked, and the puppy was plopped into his arms. Instantly, the mutt covered the boy's face with wet doggie kisses.

"Now go on 'ome and feed 'im," Jonesy said, shooing him off.

Tazz had to laugh in spite of herself. "You never fail to surprise me. Come on, let's get back to the ship pronto."

"For once," Jonesy responded, "I completely agree with ye."

Both sets of eyes turned to Gabrielle and narrowed menacingly. "And you," Tazz said lowly. "You are going to be in front of us every step of the way. If you even _try_ to wander off again, you'll find yourself in a lot of discomfort. Got me?"

Gabrielle shrugged, unaffected by Tazz's threat. "Fine," she sighed, "let's go."

--------------------

Jack was standing at the edge of the gang plank, arms crossed and looking none too happy. Upon seeing their captain in such a foul mood, Tazz stopped where she stood, Jonesy quickly hiding behind her. Gabrielle stopped at the bottom of the gang plank, smiling up as if nothing was wrong. "Hello," she called, waving. "We had so much fun. You should have joined us."

The captain of the _Black Pearl_ wasn't amused. Slowly, he descended the gang plank, every footstep that sounded on the wood making Tazz and Jonesy jump a little. Jack walked right past Gabrielle and strode up to Tazz. Lucky for her, his glare was directed at the person hiding behind her and not her. Reaching out, he grabbed Jonesy by the shirt collar and dragged him out from behind Tazz.

"You, Mr. Jones, are in a wonderful piece of trouble." Jack shoved him towards the gang plank, but stayed standing next to Tazz. "I'm going to take a chance and assume that you had to help Jones, here, out of his own grave, aye Devil?" Jack asked.

Tazz was slightly taken aback. She was used to being the scapegoat when things went wrong. "Um, sort of," she replied.

Jack turned back to Jonesy. "You are aware that Devil, here, saved your skin, correct?"

"Like ye wouldn't believe, sir," Jonesy said quickly.

"Well, thank the girl, man. If it were me, I'd've let ye fry."

Jonesy blinked, then looked and Tazz, but couldn't meet her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. "Thanks, Tazz," he murmured.

"No problem, Jonesy," Tazz said back.

"Now then," Jack cut in. "I believe a proper punishment is in order." He walked slowly up to Jonesy. "And I believe I know just the thing. You, Erick Jones, are hereby ordered to take on one duty for each crew member, a duty that each crew member gets to choose in turn. And before you even open your mouth, yes, even the parrot."

Jonesy's face fell.

"And just remember," Jack continued. "It could have been much, much worse."

With a heavy sigh, Jonesy said, "I know, Cap'n. I know..."

"And Tazz," Jack added, turning back to face her. "One favor, if you will."

Tazz narrowed her eyes. "Yeah...?"

Jack pointed at Gabrielle, who was trying to wander off again. "Put her in her room."

A grin split Tazz's face. "You got it."

--------------------

After she had tossed Gabrielle into a spare room and locked the door, Tazz leaned against a wall and sighed. She was done with surprises for the day. Hefting herself back onto her feet, she headed for the ladder and began climbing back up.

She ran into a pair of well-worn boots as she reached the deck. Slowly looking up the tall frame, she saw Caleb's face beaming down at her. "I was wonderin' when ye'd get back," he said.

Tazz groaned and clambered to her feet. "With how my day has gone thus far, I may need therapy." She then did a double take at Caleb, noticing his hands were conspicuously held behind his back. "Oh no, it's not over yet. Please tell me it won't explode."

Caleb laughed. "It won't explode... I think. It's a gift." He brought a rather large parcel out from behind his back and held it out.

Tazz stared at it warily.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, just take it. At least accept it graciously. I spent most o' my earnin's on it."

Slowly, Tazz took the package from Caleb's hands. It wasn't sturdy, and it folded over in her hands like thick cloth.

Cloth.

Oh gods, he didn't.

Eyes going wide, Tazz ripped open the paper surrounding the present with lightning speed. As the paper fell to the deck, so did her jaw. Sitting quite innocently in her hands was a dress. Slowly, she held it up to get a better look at it. There seemed to be two separate pieces to it. The underdress was black, and see-through by the looks of things, and the outer dress was a charcoal grey. The bodice seemed to be... a corset. Oh geez...

Caleb arched a brow. "Is that look of slack-jawed stupor good or bad?"

"I... uh..." was all Tazz got out.

It didn't take long for the rest of the crew to notice what Tazz was holding. Before long, the chant of, "Put it on!" was echoing around the ship.

Lifting her head, Tazz looked around at everyone staring at her expectantly. Then her eyes fell upon Jonesy, who was leaning against a rail to one side. All he did was shrug and look back at her innocently.

"So, are ye gonna put it on, then? Or was this a big mistake?" Caleb asked, shifting his feet.

Tazz snapped out of her shock. "Alright, I'll try it on," she said.

There was a deafening uproar of approval from the crew as Tazz headed towards the captain's cabin. Jack was standing by the half deck stairs. "You're willingly going to put that on?" he asked.

"Contrary to popular belief, I _am_ a girl, Jack," Tazz said. "Mind if I use your cabin?"

Jack made a sweeping gesture with his arm, which Tazz took as a yes. She pulled the door open, ducked inside, and shut the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, Tazz stood in front of the mirror in her undergarments, staring perplexed at the dress. There was no way she could get this contraption on by herself.

Suddenly, the door was pulled open and Tazz had barely enough time to cover herself with the dress before Jack poked his head in. "Jack!" She snarled. "Get out!"

Jack merely blinked at her, then pushed Ana Maria into the room and shut the door once more.

Ana Maria huffed and glared at the door. "I hate when he does that," she grumbled, then turned to look at Tazz. "If you hadn't guessed, it takes more than one person to operate one of those. Come on, Devil, let's get you pretty..."


	6. All Dressed Up

**A/N:** I am SOOOOO sorry this took me so many months to get up. I had such terrible writers block, it just wasn't even posssible. --sigh-- Forget the ramble, enjoy this (amazingly late) chapter.

* * *

"Come on, gal. Suck it in!" 

"I _am_ sucking it in! There's not much _to_ suck in, if ya haven't noticed!"

"Well try harder, cuz this blasted contraption demands a tinier waist."

"_Ow!_"

Jack leaned over to Caleb as much of the crew stood on deck listening to the screaming coming from within the cabin. "Did ye buy the girl a dress or a torture device?" he asked.

"Quite possibly both," Caleb replied, looking a bit downtrodden.

Murdoc Runner, a crewmember and friend of Caleb's, shifted from his perch on the rail of the ship and walked a few steps closer. "Are dresses really that terrible?" he asked.

Jack threw a grin over his shoulder. "You wanna try next?"

Meanwhile, Ana Maria finally finished lacing Tazz up and stood back. "I gotta say, you don't look half bad, Devil," she commented.

Tazz looked down at herself. Sure enough, there was the dress, and loads of cleavage along with it. Now, where was that mirror... Looking back up, she spotted the large ovular mirror hanging on the wall nearby. Picking her skirts up so she could actually walk and not just shuffle, Tazz walked towards the mirror, watching her feet the whole time. Why was walking in these things so darn tricky?

Her peripheral vision caught sight of the mirror and she halted, letting her skirts down a little. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and slowly lifted her gaze.

Her mouth fell open.

The dress fit perfectly. But what surprised her even more was the fact that she looked good. The underdress was sheer and black, but only the sleeves showed past the dress's outer layer. The sleeves were slashed, the only thing holding them on being a small tie at the crook of her elbow, leaving her arms visible through the fabric. The outer dress was a charcoal gray color, thick shoulder straps leading to the corset bodice. With her breasts pushed up and her waist cinched, she had a distinct hourglass shape, leaving the skirt of the dress to slide over the swell of her hips and trail to the floor.

After a minute, Ana Maria cocked a brow and cleared her throat. "You okay there, Devil?"

Tazz blinked back into reality and nodded her head mechanically. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm just... Is that really me?"

Ana let out a short laugh. "Aye, girl. It's you in that reflection." She gently grabbed Tazz's elbow. "Now let's go out and thank dear Caleb, 'right?"

With no more of a warning and a distinct lack of concern for Tazz's mental state, Ana Maria flung open the door to the cabin and herded Tazz out onto the deck.

The crew were scattered about the deck, chatting back and forth. Yet as soon as Tazz's bare foot hit the floor, every pair of eyes turned towards her. The first gaze she met belonged to Jack. His eyebrows were hiked up, but otherwise he seemed perfectly unfazed. His mouth opened once, closed, tried again to similar success, but no sound came out.

Tazz merely stuck out her tongue defensively, then gulped and shifted to look at Caleb.

The Irishman's mouth hung open slightly, his green eyes wide with surprise. He blinked a few times, proving that he was, in fact, still conscious. He and Jack seemed to have the same problem, as Caleb kept trying, unsuccessfully, to speak. Generally, there were just a lot of fish-faces on the deck.

The silence on the ship was suffocating. By the look of things, no one was going to speak. That's what Tazz thought, rather, until the blue macaw on Cotton's shoulder flapped once and cawed:

"_Awrk!_ Shiver me timbers!"

"I agree with th' parrot," came Jonesy's quip.

At once, the noise on deck returned full force. The crew began to hoot and holler, and Tazz had never wished to be invisible more so than that moment.

Jonesy strode up to her, planted his hands on his hips, and looked her up and down in a most disconcerting manner. Ignoring the catcalls from the rest of the crew, he nodded in satisfaction and grabbed Tazz by the shoulders, bodily turning her around. Tazz craned her neck to look back and see what he was doing; she wasn't surprised to find him staring at her waist and ass, approval written on his handsome features.

Furious, she wrenched out of his grip, dropped her skirts and lifted her hand to smack that stupid look right off his stupid face. Unfortunately, when she took a step to turn around, her bare foot caught the hem of her underdress and she fell backwards with a squeak.

Someone caught her and set her upright. Tazz looked down to see a pirate brand on the arm that encircled her waist, then up into Murdoc's face. Green eyes smiled at her from under a brown paisley bandana.

"Ye look good, Devil," he said, barely loud enough to be heard over the din.

"I'll say she does," Dawson said from behind them, and another set of hands grabbed her and spun her awkwardly across the deck. Tazz wanted nothing more than to lash out at her crewmates, but her hands were unfortunately occupied with keeping her too-long skirts away from her feet.

Gibbs caught her this time, grinning evilly. "Like a Devil what preys on men. Oh, wait, 's not far wrong, is it?" He gave her a light slap on the bottom and sent her reeling off to be manhandled by the next crewmember.

Tazz knew the crew was just playing, but it had been a long time since she had felt this powerless. A control freak by nature, the situation was nothing short of humiliating for her. On top of that, she was vaguely aware of Caleb getting his fair share of ribbing back by the cabin. _That_ pissed her off. Buying the dress had been a sweet gesture, really, however misplaced. He didn't deserve to take shit for it.

After what seemed like an eternity of being passed from pirate to pirate, Tazz finally landed face-first into Jack's shoulder. He steadied her gently, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in a considering gaze.

She couldn't help it, she squirmed. It wasn't often Jack looked that serious.

One side of his mouth quirked up in a strange little half-smile, and he shoved her hard. She stumbled backward and hit someone tall and solid.

Caleb wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders, turning her gently so she was cuddled close to his chest. He looked over her head at Jack in surprise.

Jack only gave him a small smile, and Caleb's face lit up. Tazz looked from one to the other in confusion, feeling like she'd just missed something important.

"Are ye all _quite_ finished?"

All eyes turned to the cabin. Ana Maria stood in the doorway, hands planted on her hips.

Tazz's jaw dropped. Ana was wearing a cream-colored shift and a chocolate gown. Her long hair, free of the usual bandana and floppy hat, fell gently into her face. Suddenly, Tazz had a taste of what the crew must have felt upon seeing her. She _never_ thought she'd see Ana in a dress.

Ana Maria stalked out of the doorway, her skirts swishing delicately – and menacingly – with each step. Tazz noticed with a twinge of jealousy that Ana seemed to have no problems with _her_ skirts.

Jonesy grinned his wolf's grin and started towards her. Ana Maria drew a pistol before he'd even taken two steps.

"Don't," she said.

Jonesy didn't.

Ana smiled, a wolfish smile every bit as scary as Jonesy's.

"Erick Jones, don't ye owe me a task?"

"Aye, that he does," Jack said from Tazz's right, leaning back against the railing. "Everyone in the crew gets one task out of Erick Jones."

"Then, Mr. Jones, your task is to buy me dinner. A nice one, mind you." Ana Maria grinned again, waving the pistol for emphasis. "Go put on some reasonable clothes."

Jonesy blinked.

"What, now?"

"Aye. Get a move on, boy." She aimed a swat in the direction of his bum, but he was already moving. Satisfied, she turned to Caleb.

"What're _you_ waitin' for?"

Caleb blinked, confused. "What…?"

Ana gave him a withering look. "Ye didn't think we was goin' _alone_, didja?" She waved her pistol at Tazz. "A dress like that was meant to be seen."

Caleb understood, nodding to appease Ana Maria. He then looked to Tazz, who he was still holding against him. "Is this all okay with you?" he asked softly.

Tazz hoped that the blush on her face went unnoticed. She cleared her throat and nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine with it."

His grin returned and he went darting below decks after Jonesy before any more could be said.

Finally back in her own personal bubble, Tazz blinked a few times, but didn't move. "What... just happened?" she asked no one in particular.

Ana Maria smiled slightly and patted her on the arm. "Yer goin' on a date, Devil."

--------------------

It wasn't nearly as bad as Tazz expected. The little tavern was quaint, and quiet, and not full of people so drunk they were falling over. Their dinner had been rather delicious, and now the four sat around the table laughing at old stories.

Caleb held his face in his hands as Jonesy continued on with his tale. "An' not only did th' captain catch 'im, but when 'e did, Caleb was _covered_ in tar from 'ead t' 'eels."

Tazz tried not to laugh, but failed miserably. The stories Jonesy was sharing about his and Caleb's teen years were priceless. So far, Tazz had learned that the two had known each other for nearly ten years. Their first adventures were on a ship called the _Orca_. Two years later, they left the _Orca _and joined the _Midnight Sun_, where they met Murdoc, thus creating the trio it was today. After the _Midnight Sun_ crew disbanded after nearly seven years aboard, the three joined with the _Black Pearl_. That was a year and a half ago.

Currently, Jonesy was telling all the embarrassing stories he could remember from their time on the _Midnight Sun_.

After five minutes of the humiliating barrage, Caleb lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at Jonesy. "Now, now, mate, yer forgettin' somethin'," he murmured dangerously.

Jonesy cocked a brow. "Yeah? What?"

"The time ye lost all yer clothes in Aruba an' had t' run back t' the ship in naught but yer sash."

Jonesy's smile faded instantly, and Tazz and Ana Maria laughed harder. He glared at his best friend, but Caleb merely sat back and smiled pleasantly. "Touché, mate," Jonesy mumbled, looking away casually.

Caleb rolled his eyes and leaned towards Tazz. "See? Turn the tables on him an' he's nothin'."

"Yeah, but I don't have any humiliating stories to hang over his head," Tazz reminded.

"I can give ya plenty," Caleb said with a wink.

"Oy, Caleb," Jonesy said lowly, leaning inwards also, "I think it may be time t' go. That lot a few tables back's been eyein' us for nearly ten minutes, an' it's startin' t' bother me."

Ana Maria cautiously glanced over to the group Jonesy was referring to. Sure enough, a group of seven men were hunched around a table, occasionally leering over at them. There was a slight inkling in her mind that said she recognized them from somewhere, but it was unclear where. For the moment, she shrugged it off and put the recognition into 'thugs that want to start a fight'. It was a rather large file, and they fit quite nicely.

Nevertheless, she nodded her agreement. "Aye, let's be getting' back to the ship. Don't want to sully the evening by brawlin'."

She had just stood up when the door to the tavern swung open and a tall, fearsome man strode in.

He wore fine clothing, but it didn't mask the fact that he was obviously a pirate. His face was grizzled, deep scars covering one side of it. A tri-corner hat sat atop his long dark hair, which was pulled back into a loose ponytail. His hand rested on the pommel of a long cutlass, and two pistols were tucked into his belt.

Ana Maria froze. She watched the man stride towards the table with the seven burly men and sit amongst them. Slowly, Ana leaned down and whispered fiercely, "We need to leave _now_."

Caleb's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"That man is Captain Santiago," Ana hissed. "Jack is at the top of that man's list of people to kill. If he recognizes us, we are _dead_. Understand?"

Everyone at the table tensed considerably. "I agree," Tazz said as casually as she could. "Time to head back."

The four had just stood up to hurry and leave when things went from bad to worse.

Jack burst through the doors with a flourish. "How's the dinner going? Did I miss anything terribly exciting?" he hollered across the tavern, making his way towards the table, arms waving wildly.

Ana Maria couldn't shove Jack under the table in time. The other captain lifted his head at the ruckus and immediately saw the wobbly Captain Sparrow talking to the four increasingly-agitated pirates. Santiago's eyes narrowed.

"_Jack!_" Tazz hissed, finally shutting off his endless stream of chatter. "We need to _go_. _Now_."

"Oh, what now?" Jack muttered, and turned to look around. His eyes caught Santiago's almost instantly... and he paled. "Oh."

Santiago got to his feet, each slight movement menacing. In turn, each of his crewmen stood up around him. Each looked like they recognized Jack as well, and none looked too happy about it.

Jack swallowed hard and tried his best to look unfazed at seeing the rival captain standing not ten feet away. "E-Emilio!" he greeted, a nervous grin spreading on his face. "Didn't expect to see you." He added under his breath, "...Ever again."

Captain Santiago slowly advanced on Jack, his scarred face contorted into a mask of barely-contained rage. "Jack Sparrow," he snarled, stepping in and causing Jack to step back. "Ye've got some nerve darin' t' show yer face."

Jack tried to back up further, but there was a rather stubborn wall behind him that refused to grant him passage. "Now that's just harsh, Emilio," he replied lightly. "I thought there were no hard feelings."

Santiago's eyes managed to narrow further.

"My mistake," Jack added. "Err, well, we were actually _just_ leaving port. _So_ sorry to cause you grief. Umm... we'll just be going now." He tried to sneak sideways past the furious Santiago, but alas, he and the others were thoroughly cornered.

"My men will rip you apart," Santiago announced, his voice a harsh rasp. "Consider it payback, Sparrow."

Tazz was terribly unhappy by this point. All she had wanted was a nice, peaceful dinner, but _nooo_. Jack had to have enemies in this port. She and Ana Maria were pressed against the wall, Caleb and Jonesy standing between them and the other crewmen.

They were outnumbered, but that hadn't stopped them before and it didn't look like it was going into effect any time soon. The seven rather large crewmen glared at Jonesy and Caleb, but the two boys simply glared back. Tazz had never seen Jonesy look so serious before.

"Yer gonna get crushed, boy," one of the men said. "Maybe if ye back off now, we'll let ye run back t' yer ship with yer tails 'tween yer legs."

"First off," Jonesy barked, surprising everyone, "in case you 'aven't noticed, we 'aven't got tails. Don't know what kind of women ye've been beddin' lately, but tails aren't normal on most 'umans. Secondly, ye think me an' my best mate 'ere're just gonna walk off an' let ye big ugly brutes 'ave yer way with our women?" He suddenly let out a laugh. "Wait, what am I worryin' 'bout? You meat'eads couldn't 'andle these two. They'd beat ye int' th' ground."

Tazz wasn't sure whether to be flattered or insulted, and from the look on Anamaria's face, neither did she. Caleb merely looked like he wanted to shake Jonesy and tell him to shut up.

The other crewmen, however, looked quite insulted. "You say somethin' like that again an' you'll be tastin' my boot, boy."

And Jonesy didn't know the meaning of the word 'quit'. He raised his eyebrows innocently. "What? That yer all a bunch o' low-down, dickless, mother-shaggers what can't please a woman?" He nodded to himself. "I'll keep that in mind."

A balled fist soared at Jonesy's head, but the young ruffian was ready for it. He ducked low faster than Tazz thought possible and braced his hands on the floor, then delivered a high kick to his attackers jaw, sending him reeling backwards.

Then Tazz was swept away into the brawl. Tripping over her skirts, she fell hard to the floor, quickly rolling sideways to avoid getting stepped on. As fast as she could, she spun up onto her knees, then to her feet once more. Yet before she could even get her bearings straight, a balled fist was flying at her head.

Ana Maria pushed Tazz to the side, throwing her out of the way of the attack. With amazing dexterity, Ana hiked her skirt up, pulled a dagger out of the sheath attached to her leg, and slashed at the assailant.

Tazz scuttled as far away as she could get, eventually ducking down and hiding herself behind a large column near the bar. She didn't think to bring a weapon; tonight was only supposed to be dinner, not a fight. She wasn't even wearing pants! How the hell was she supposed to fight?

Getting slowly to her feet, Tazz peeked cautiously around the side of the pillar. Everyone was moving around so fast, she could hardly tell anyone apart. Jack and Santiago had somehow managed to vanish in the fray, and Caleb wasn't visible either.

Ana Maria was holding her own against whoever came at her, stabbing and slashing with her long dagger. Her dress twirled gracefully around her legs, camouflaging the vicious blows she was dealing.

Jonesy, on the other hand, wasn't faring very well against the three men attacking him. He was holding his own surprisingly well, but three versus one was far from fair.

Not that pirates ever cared about 'fair'.

One of the three thugs ganging up on Jonesy moved around behind the young pirate, unsheathing his sword and preparing to backstab.

Tazz felt a cold fury race through her, jumpstarting her adrenaline. Now _that_ was crossing a line...

A high kick snapped the man's head to the side and he stumbled sideways, dropping his sword. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned to face where the assault had come from.

To his surprise, Tazz was coming at him for round two. Her skirts whirled in a wide arc as she spun on her heel and slammed her foot into his face once more. Her boot hit him hard, and he fell to the floor.

For a quick moment, Tazz felt dangerous again; like she was a formidable adversary, even in a dress.

It didn't last long. Her opponent got to his feet in a huff, his sword once again clenched in his hand. He slashed down at her, but Tazz dodged to the side. She was quicker than him, which was her only advantage at this point. Dodging was going to be a priority. He came at her again, and once more Tazz ducked to the side –

– And hit a pillar. She couldn't move away as the blade came at her again. Shit, time to improvise.

Grabbing her skirts, Tazz twirled them around the incoming blade and caught it in a lock. The man was obviously confused by this move, which gave Tazz the second she needed to kick him in the head for a third time. He released the sword, and Tazz dropped it from her skirt, kicking it far to the side.

From behind her, she heard, "Where did you learn _that_?"

Tazz risked a glance over her shoulder to grin at Jonesy, who was at the other side of the pillar. "I learned it from a Jackie Chan movie."

She had no more time to socialize, however, for the man came back yet again, this time wielding a thick, wooden chair leg. Tazz ducked as the makeshift club cracked against the pillar and darted to the other side of the tavern.

Unfortunately, she forgot to lift her skirts as she did. Her foot caught the hem of her underdress and she tripped, falling and hitting the floor hard. The gorilla of a man was thundering on her heels, club poised in the air.

She was unable to move out of the way. All Tazz could do was bring her arm up as the club came down. The two collided, and Tazz's arm gave. She let out a pained cry, wildly kicking her legs until she connected with his knee. The brute fell to the ground with a shout, giving Tazz time to scramble to her feet and run.

Her arm hurt badly, but she wasn't sure if it was broken. Cradling it as she ran, Tazz tried to find someplace to hide, but the tavern was utter chaos. To add insult to injury, Tazz tripped over her skirts again, tumbling into the corner. She put her arm out to break the fall, but it supported no weight and she crumpled to the floor.

A guttural scream sounded behind her. Turning her head, she saw her ever-persistent adversary charging at her like a mad bull, the club raised for a strike. There was no time. Tazz closed her eyes tight and prayed that she would live through this.

A gunshot sounded.

A few tense seconds passed before Tazz slowly opened her eyes. The pirate thug that was about to give her a distinctly smaller IQ pitched forward, a hole in the middle of his forehead. Standing a few yards behind him was Jack, his pistol raised, the barrel smoking.

Everything had stopped as if a switch was flicked. Both crews seemed entranced by what had just occurred. Santiago materialized out of the ruin that was once a tavern. He took a few steps forward, enough to observe the scene. His eyes passed over his dead crewman and to Tazz. He paused at her arm, which she was cradling, and a thoughtful frown creased his face.

Then as soon as it began, Santiago turned on his heel and strode out of the tavern. His crew followed quickly, though they seemed confused by their captain's actions. All that was left was a lot of broken furniture and the five pirates of the _Black Pearl_.

Jack turned to Jonesy. "Go make sure they're leaving port, then report back here. If they're not leaving, we are."

Jonesy didn't argue. He nodded to Jack, cast a quick glance at Tazz, then darted out the door.

Ana Maria spoke up as she carefully sheathed her dagger. "What's goin' on, Jack?" she asked.

Jack avoided answering her by helping Tazz to her feet. "You alright?" he asked, inspecting her arm tentatively.

"I think," Tazz replied, somewhat hazy. "Jack, why'd you do that? Now that guy's gonna want you dead even more so than he already does."

Jack met her gaze somewhat reproachfully. "An' let ye get clubbed on the head by some lowlife? I do have some semblance of a soul, Devil."

"Jack, that's not what I – "

Jonesy came pounding back into the tavern, slightly out of breath. "They're makin' sail, Cap'n," he said.

"Good." Jack put a hand on Tazz's shoulder and steered her towards the door. "Come on, luv. Let's get ye t' the surgeon."

As she was herded out the door, Tazz cast a look over her shoulder and met Caleb's eye. He looked just as worried as she felt. Everyone did. Something was very wrong, and there was no way it was over.

* * *

**A/N:** Whew. Yes, that's what took me so damn long. I don't know why I had such trouble with it; I had an outline and everything. A HUGE thank you goes to my own personal muse and best friend ever Bonnie! Without her, this would have taken even longer and sucked hardcore. 

And even MORE props go to Bonnie, for she created this: (I hate links... Just take out all the spaces and paste it into your browser) http://ladyaura. deviantart. com/ art/ Tazz-Kennedy- 57722746

This is the scene where Tazz first looks in the mirror at the dress. It's amazing and exactly as planned. Though there's a warning along with this. If you don't want to learn what happens next, please please PLEASE don't go browsing around. Thar be spoilers about! Though if you don't mind spoilers, feel free. You probably won't understand what's going on, but hey. And if you do browse, absolutely NO telling about it. It's a secret. ;)


	7. Girl Talk

**A/N:** I am _SOOOOOO_ sorry this took eons to get posted. My muse, talent, and creativity simultaneously took a vacation to Kokomo and I had no say in the matter, leaving me staring at this thing forever, going "durrr, words". I know it's way overdue, and I apologize again. I'm not dead yet! And the next chapter will be up MUCH quicker than the last, I swear on my mother's non-existent grave.

Now read, enjoy. Stop listening to my blathering.

* * *

The surgeon had deemed that the bone in Tazz's arm was not broken, only bruised. Upon receiving this news, Tazz naturally went back out into Tortuga the next morning.

Her dress was hanging safely in her room. She wanted no further harm to come to the gift, so she wandered Tortuga in her usual ensemble of her long-sleeved shirt and shorts. Thankfully, the long sleeves covered the ugly bruise that was forming on her arm.

After browsing the wares in the marketplace, Tazz moved further into the town, peering at the buildings and their contents. She had strolled into the bar district, and half of its patrons were plastered already. Tortuga hadn't changed one bit since she had woken up in Anna's tavern.

Holy crap, she had yet to visit Anna.

After searching the bars for nearly ten minutes, she came upon one that looked more familiar than the rest. Peeking her head inside, Tazz knew she had the right one when the busty barmaid with the four empty pints in her hands shrieked with joy and charged her. Tazz was nearly bowled off her feet as Anna collided into her.

"_Tazz_! What in th' world're ye doin' in Tortuga?" Anna cried, releasing the girl enough to look her in the eyes.

Tazz found herself grinning. "I decided to stick around with Jack's crew," she replied. "We got up to Williamsburg and... well, I realized I liked it here."

Anna jostled Tazz's arm with a large glass. "Ooh, ye little sneak. Though I must say, it's great t' see ye, lass." One of the patrons slurred out a call for more rum, and Anna tilted her head back over her shoulder to yell out "I'm comin', keep yer britches on!"

She turned back to Tazz. "Darlin', I'd love to talk, but 'tis crazier than a one-oared rowboat in here today. Caroline's run off with her sailor-man, so we're short a girl."

Tazz cocked an eyebrow. "Need help?"

Anna looked affronted. "Oh no, I t'wasn't askin' that."

"I know," Tazz told her. "I'm offering. It's only been a few months, I still remember how it goes."

Pursing her lips, Anna looked her over. "Aye, I'd lay odds you do. Alright, lassie, you're hired. Go ahead and take these gentlemen here, fer starters." She gestured at a table of dirty, battered seamen, already well into their cups and singing sea shanties at the top of their lungs. Tazz rolled her eyes, pulled up her sleeves, put on her prettiest smile and got to work.

The rush only got worse as the sun rose higher. Tazz was shocked to find so many people who drank liquor so early in the day. A quick comment to Anna revealed that those were the men who were drunk constantly, many of them retired sailors of some description. A few were men hiding from wives; some were drinking to take the edge off the previous night's hangover, a practice Tazz never had understood. A good number had food with their drink, and Tazz, Anna and the other waitress Mary made trips to the kitchen nearly as often as the bar.

Finally, as the sun started to dip towards the horizon, the traffic slowed. Anna's night girls Bess and Isabel came in and began cleaning in preparation for the night rush, while Mary, Tazz and Anna herself retired to a table in the corner with a huge meat pie, a plate of skilly n' duff, and a pitcher of cider. The three set to the food with a will, and it was several minutes before they slowed down enough for Mary to ask about the bruise on Tazz's arm.

Tazz quickly pulled her sleeves down. She'd been too busy to think about it earlier, but now she felt self-conscious about it.

"I was in a fight last night," she said. "It's nothing."

"Oh, nothin', is it?" Anna asked around a forkful of duff. "I heard Jack and his crew were in a brawl last night, over at the _Sea Dragon_." She raised an eyebrow. "Th' gossip is that he killed a man in defense of a woman." Her fork, now freed of its sticky cargo, waved expressively in the air. "Very un-Jack-like, that."

Flushed, Tazz viciously stabbed a bit of meat on her plate. "Don't ask me, I _never_ know why he does what he does."

Anna wasn't convinced. "Uh-huh," she drawled, watching with interest as the meat died a bloody death. Mary, next to her, eyed Tazz curiously.

"So it's true then? Jack Sparrow shot a Spaniard over you?"

Swallowing her bite, Tazz cocked an eyebrow. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you please. And it's not like they were dueling over my honor or anything dumb like that." She stabbed another bit of meat pie, watching distractedly as the grease seeped out and pooled around it. "The guy was trying to kill me. Jack saved me. I'm sure he would have done it for any of his crew."

"Dearie, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow is not known for stickin' his neck out for anyone. As a matter o' fact, he's notorious for getting it out of th' way any way possible." Anna gestured with her fork unhelpfully. "From what I hear, that's how he ended up on Santiago's list to begin with." She grinned. "Ye must be pretty important to him."

Tazz rolled her eyes. "An important pain in his _arse_, maybe." When Anna's smirk didn't fade, Tazz's eyes widened. "What, you think he's in _love_ with me? Oh God, I hope not!"

Anna and Mary blinked, sharing surprised glances.

"Why not?" Mary asked. "He's 'andsome as anythin', and good in the bedroom if the gossip's any judge."

Tazz's hands fluttered in front of her wildly – a gesture not unlike Jack's, Anna noticed. "It takes more than a pretty face and a good lay to make a relationship work!" She must have realized she was getting loud, because she abruptly dropped her hands into her lap. When next she spoke, her voice was much more quiet. "I demand too much from my men, and Jack is too wild. The first time he got bored he'd go get a whore, and the next morning she'd be dead and he'd be castrated. I don't take infidelity well."

Mary's eyebrows rose. "Didn't you ever wonder, though? What it t'would be like?"

"No." Tazz told her flatly. When Anna's eyebrows began to compete with Mary's in a race to the hairline, she flushed a bit. "Well, yeah, maybe. When I first met him. He _is_ handsome, and I'm _not_ blind... But he's old enough to be my father, almost."

"Girls marry men many times their age all the time," Mary pointed out.

"Not where I come from," Tazz retorted. "That sort of thing is usually frowned upon." She finished her last bite of duff and pushed her plate back with a sigh, cradling her mug of cider and leaning back.

"He must care for ye, though," Anna said thoughtfully. "Ye certainly care for him. Ye're even beginning to act like him."

Tazz snorted. "Of course he cares for me. I wouldn't have him as my Captain if he didn't. His crew would follow him to the ends of the earth, and there's a good reason for that. We like him. We trust him. Hell, most of us love him. A smarter, more charismatic man you'd be hard-pressed to find." She smiled wryly. "His insane, manic-depressive luck has something to do with it, too." She waved off the questioning looks at her use of a modern term and quickly hurried on. "Beyond that, there's nothing between us."

"Nothing?" Anna asked slyly.

Silence. Tazz stared into her mug for a moment before answering.

"Alright, not_nothing_. I do think he watches out for me more than the rest of the crew. Maybe it's because I'm a girl, or because I'm so out of place all the time, but I think he's adopted me. He's like a big brother, or an uncle."

"Maybe it's because you remind 'im of 'isself," Mary commented. Both Tazz and Anna looked up in surprise, and she blinked. "Wot? I'm not allowed to 'ave thoughtful insights once in a great while?"

Anna grinned. "'Tis certainly not what I pay ye for," she told the redhead. Mary stuck her tongue out in reply, and all three giggled.

Tazz relaxed a little. She'd missed girl talk. Being surrounded by men was nice and all – after all, men's egos are much easier to deal with than women's drama, and the view is spectacular – but sometimes she really wished Ana Maria was less of a tomboy. (And there was _no way_ she was going to discuss boys with Gabrielle.)

"So," Anna said, nursing her own half-finished mug, "ye've been constantly out to sea for nigh on three months now and ye've had no bed-pressin'?" She pursed her lips at Tazz's telltale snort. "A sad state of affairs. I can point ye in the direction of a brothel wot caters to women, if'n ye'd like."

Tazz shuddered. "Noooooo thank you. I'll live." She considered for a moment, decided these two were trustworthy enough, and leaned forward. "Between you and me, I think I've got some good prospects in that direction."

Exchanging gleeful glances, Anna and Mary leaned forward as well. Tazz grinned and launched into an explanation of her relationship with Jonesy and Caleb.

When she was done, Anna nodded in satisfaction. "That _does_ sound fine. 'Twold seem they both have a fondness for ye."

Mary furrowed her brow. "When you say Jonesy, you don't perchance mean Erick Jones?" Tazz nodded, and Mary's eyes widened. "'E's 'ad 'alf the women in the city! The brothel marms say 'e bewitches their girls into goin' with 'im for free."

Tazz snorted. "That explains why one of the matrons was chasing him with her shoe two days ago."

Anna waved them off. "'S all very well, but the question is, which one do ye like the better?"

"Caleb," Tazz answered immediately. "He's the sweetest thing you'll ever meet. A perfect gentleman, even for being a pirate."

"An' handsome too, I'd wager," Anna said with a knowing grin. Tazz groaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

"God, yes. Tall and strong, with eyes like palm trees and a beautiful smile." She blushed at the amused looks the other two girls were giving her. "What? He is!"

"Seems ye've made up yer mind already, Tazzy," Anna said. "What's the bother?"

Tazz's face turned serious. "I know. My brain knows Caleb would be better for me, that I should let him know I'm interested and just let it happen. But…" She blew out a frustrated breath. "When I'm with Jonesy, I can't stop _looking_ at him. _Touching_ him. Even if I'm just rolling my eyes or hitting him."

"That's cause 'e's a _witch_," Mary said firmly. "Got the devil in 'im, 'e does."

Tazz blinked in amusement. "You sound like you've had personal experience."

"'E seduced me sister," Mary said flatly. "Gina's got a stick shoved so far up 'er bum she can't even slouch, let alone go to bed with a man. 'E shows up one day at market and the next day she comes 'ome all... _debauched_." She shook her head. "No man could do that wot didn't 'ave a pact wit Lucifer."

Tazz snorted in disbelief. "Maybe your sister just needed someone really good to break down her walls."

Mary glared. "_Witch_. No good. Don't you do it, Tazz, you go wit that Irishman of yours."

Raising an eyebrow, Anna asked "Have ye ever met this Jones, Mary?"

"No. An' I don't plan on it. I picks me men, thank you, they don't picks me."

"Ha," Tazz said, humor dancing in her blue-green eyes. "If he _looked_at you the right way, you'd be all over him. I've seen it time and time again. He's not a witch, just a wolf."

Once more, Anna flapped her hands at the two girls and launched back into the topic of Tazz's love life. "Enough 'bout that sister o' yers, Mary. I'm more keen on this missy here." She gave Tazz her best prying gaze and leered at her. "So've ye gotten anywhere with either o' these two men?"

Tazz leaned back from Anna's intense stare. "Not really. I mean, I've been carried around like a toy by the lot of them, but the closest I've gotten to anything was when I went out to dinner with Caleb, and apparently everyone knows how _that_ended."

"Oh, jus' try a little harder, Tazz. Those boys are sea-farers." Anna winked. "They've got jus' one thing on their minds, an' if ye show the slightest bit o' interest, they'll be like dough in yer hands." Her evil smile returned. "An' if all that fails, your Captain's still an option..."

Tazz blushed hard, but couldn't bark out a retort before an upcry diverted all their attention.

"See? I _told_ye she'd be here!"

Tazz blanched. She knew who that voice belonged to without even having to turn around. "Oh no, not now..."

Suddenly, two arms landed on the table on either side of her, a firm chest pressing against the back of her head. Yes, those rings and favors all over the rough hands were quite familiar.

"Rum, Anna!" Jack bellowed. "An' keep them coming!"

Ignoring the pirate captain's order, Anna stood slowly, then smiled and turned to Tazz, who was still uncomfortably pinned under Jack's torso, a faint redness high on her cheeks. "Nothin'?" she asked.

"Quiet, Anna," Tazz grumbled.

"In any case, on yer feet, you two," Anna ordered Mary and Tazz. "Th' dinner crowd's gettin' heavy. We got work t' do."

Mary got up from the table and walked back to the bar with Anna, the two of them giggling. Tazz was left to dislodge her captain from her person. "C'mon Jack, lemme up. Anna needs me to help out."

"Well, if that's the case, you can bring us our rum, Devil," Jack said, sliding sideways into one of the vacated chairs.

Gibbs then stepped into Tazz's line of vision and pulled out the other chair, dropping himself into it. "Aye, come now lass," he said in his gruff voice. "We'll be good, I promise."

Tazz rolled her eyes and stood up. "Yeah right, and pigs fly."

She headed towards the bar, where Anna was filling drinks and keeping customers happy. "Tazz," she said over the heads of the men around her, "those pints sittin' there're for your crew." She smiled cheerily. "Take care of 'em for me, will ye?"

After a long pause, Tazz cursed under her breath and grabbed the two mugs. "Anna, I _will_get you for this. Mark my words."

"Later, dear," Anna called back. "Later."

Making her way back towards the table where Jack and Gibbs sat, Tazz clunked the two glasses down and frowned. "I want none of your shenanigans tonight, got me? I'm doing Anna a favor by helping her out today."

Jack looked affronted. "Shenanigans? Us? Ye must have us mistaken for some uncultured ruffians, Devil. We're just here for rum."

"Make sure it stays that way, then" Tazz warned, then headed back to the bar to fill more orders.

--------------------

By the time the bar closed for the night, Jack was thoroughly tipsy. A slew of empty glasses sat before him and Gibbs, yet he had no recollection of how they got there. Heaving himself to his feet, the pirate captain swaggered to where Anna stood at the bar, counting assorted coins. "So where'd dear Devil run off to?" he asked. "Back to the ship already?"

Anna snickered and shook her head. "No Jack, she's in the back corner sleepin'. The poor dear's exhausted."

Arching one eyebrow, Jack looked over his shoulder and to where Anna was gesturing. Sure enough, there lay Tazz, curled up fast asleep on one of the tables. After blinking a few times, Jack turned back to Anna, clearly befuddled. Any sign of drunkenness seemed to have vanished. "How am I supposed to get her back on the _Pearl_?"

Anna stopped counting her money and stared at Jack for a long moment. Finally, after Jack began to squirm under her gaze, she said, "Well, yer a man, ain'cha? Carry the girl!"

Jack leapt back from Anna's outburst and quickly shuffled back to where Tazz slept. "Crazy women, never know what they're on about..." he grumbled to himself. Sighing and tilting his head, he tried to determine how to go about picking Tazz up. After about a minute, he merely shrugged and put one arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees, and plucked her off the table. "C'mon Devil, it's bedtime for you."

"Oh, Jack," Anna called as he neared the door. Jack had to carefully turn on the spot to see the barmaid walking up to him. "These are Tazz's earnin's," she continued. "Give 'em to 'er when she wakes up, aye?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "And with which hand would you like me to take those, Anna?" he asked.

"I'll take 'em, Captain," Gibbs said. "Ye got yer hand full enough without coin weighin' ye down more."

Anna nodded and handed Gibbs the small pouch of coins. "Tell the lass I say good luck," she said. "Sailin' with you, the poor girl's gonna need it."

Jack ignored the jab at him and simply nodded, then headed out into the street and back towards the docks.

--------------------

"Ah, Mr. Jones, just the person I need to talk to," Jack said cheerily as he reached the gangplank of the _Black Pearl._

Jonesy, who had just gotten back to the ship himself, looked up in confusion as his captain addressed him, and came walking up with Tazz slumped in his arms. His brow automatically furrowed at the sight. "Everythin' alright, Cap'n?" he asked cautiously.

Jack just continued to smile at him. "Couldn't be better. Now, as you can see, Devil, here, is a bit tuckered out. And seein' as you owe everyone on this ship a favor, _you_ can take her shift in the crow's nest tonight. Savvy?"

Jonesy's jaw dropped. "A double, Cap'n? But that's --"

"Need I remind you, Jones," Jack cut in, his voice slow and deliberate, "that you owe Devil quite a lot. The least you can do is get up in that nest."

He wouldn't argue the point any further. "Aye, Cap'n," he said quietly, then turned and headed for the rigging.

Jack's cheery smile came back once more and he whistled to himself as he carefully walked below decks and towards Tazz's bunk. Nudging the door open with his boot, he was momentarily startled to see two glowing eyes staring at him from within, then remembered the cat had been on board for quite a while now.

"Spooky, don't startle me like that," he berated the cat, as if it would listen. "Now move over, I need to lay her down."

To his mild surprise, Spooky hopped gracefully off the hammock and sat on the floor while Jack carefully set Tazz down. Once the task was completed, the cat hopped right back up and made himself comfortable on Tazz's chest.

Jack observed the sleeping girl for a moment before affirming that everything was, in fact, in place and as it should be. Turning on his heel, he quietly left the room, shut the door, and promptly made his way towards the rum stores.


	8. Complications

**A/N:** Hi all. Long time no see, huh? I know, I know. I fell into the awful trap that awaits most stories. Halfway done and never returning. I hate that. It drives me bonkers, and yet... *sigh* Well, to make a long story short, I am still working on Tazz's story. However, in the 4 years (dear god...) I've been away, I've built so much of my own that in a lot of ways it's not the same story it once was. I no longer have the same joy for writing fanfiction that I used to. It's still fun, don't get me wrong, but I have characters that are all mine that I love working with now, and there's no greater joy for a writer than that.

Ugh. I hate to disappoint everyone by coming back and then saying I'll never return. That's not the case. I just don't know if/when it will ever be. Maybe I'll even finish this story one day. It's all plotted out, for once. There's no guarantees, though. In any case, here are the next two chapters. A warning, however: As I said, I've got original characters, and I ended up giving them a lot of time and attention. This story, while still technically a fanfic, is becoming less and less about the PotC universe, and more about my own. That may disappoint a lot of you, but it's just where the characters went, and where I wanted to follow. You've been warned.

It's a few hours past midnight here, and technically the 26th, but close enough. Merry Christmas, everybody.

* * *

Tazz slowly rose into consciousness and stretched in her hammock. She felt Spooky fall to one side as she arched her back, then the heavy cat repositioned and stood casually on her chest. "Oh, gimme a minute," Tazz mumbled in her sleepy stupor. "Lemme wake up first."

Finally rolling out of the hammock, Tazz was momentarily confused as to why she was still fully clothed, boots and all. _Oh yeah, fell asleep at Anna's._ She paused. _Oh god, someone carried me back. _Wincing in embarrassment at the mere idea, Tazz sighed heavily and scratched the back of her head. _Well, could've been worse_, she reasoned. Opening the door, she let Spooky out into the ship and proceeded towards the deck.

"Devil!"

Tazz stopped short, one foot hanging in the air. She let it drop but didn't turn; she knew that holler too well.

"What, Jack?" she yelled.

A leather pouch dropped into her range of vision from above. She turned then, regarding Jack's grin with a cocked eyebrow.

"What's this?"

"Your earnings, luv. Anna gave them to me last night, after you passed out on the bar."

"You make it sound so unseemly," Tazz grumbled, but she took the money. "When are _you _gonna pay me, then?"

Jack snorted. "When we run across a ship to plunder. Patience, m'dear."

Tazz weighed the bag in her hands, contemplating the amount within. "What will I even buy with it? I have everythin' I need on the ship."

"Ah, well," Jack replied, "if ye ask me, ye could do with some new garb." He gave her tattered shorts a pointed look. "Not that we don't all enjoy seein' your naked knees on decks, but I don't want it gettin' about that my crew can't afford decent clothes."

Tazz made a face. She'd been around pirates so long, she'd almost forgotten that her clothing was scandalously skimpy for the time period. Besides, it smelled awful. Jack was right, she needed new clothes.

Of course, she had no idea what to buy. What did a lady pirate wear?

"Well?"

Tazz looked up, taking in Jack's haphazard, eclectic ensemble. He was pretty crazy looking, yeah, but he was interesting.

Oh, what the hell.

She reached out and snagged Jack's wrist, ignoring his wide-eyed "Oy!" of protest.

"Well, if I need new clothes, you're gonna help me find them." She climbed up onto the deck, heading for the gangplank.

Though released, Jack still followed. "Oh will I?"

"Do you trust me in the market by myself? I may come back with a new pet instead of clothes. I've always wanted a monkey."

Jack made a horrified face. "You've made your point, luv. To market we go."

###

Once in the right section of the market, Tazz tilted her head at the clothing laid out on the tables. Most of it was aimed towards men, true, but some of the patterns and colors were downright hideous, even by poor pirate standards.

"I always preferred neutrals, myself," Jack said over her shoulder, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Bear in mind, some men are missing eyes. They don't notice as easily."

Tazz snickered. "One-eyed or not, flower patterns and such bright primary colors should be illegal in pirate fashion."

Jack arched one brow and looked at Tazz sidelong. "Have ye looked at your hair as of late, Devil?"

"Oh hush," Tazz grumbled, flapping her hand at him. "That's entirely different. I don't wear _clothes _that bright."

Moving past more tables, Tazz continued her search for women's clothes that were not dresses. The mission was not as easy as it seemed. There seemed to be nothing aimed at the tomboy pirate woman; then again, that demographic was probably rather slim. Jack moved further down the line of tables as Tazz perused, vainly searching for anything that might be eluding her by hiding under other garments. In mid-browse, a large piece of cloth hit her in the side of the head, draping over her face.

Standing very still for a long moment, Tazz slowly removed the clothing from her person, holding whatever it was out in front of her. The dark material turned out to be a pair of black sailor's slops.

"Those ought t' fit ye," Jack drawled, still standing a few tables away, digging through the items there. "They're shorter in the leg and narrow in the waist. Ye've got a sash if they're still too large, correct?"

Tazz blinked. "Aye," she said slowly, watching Jack dig through the clothes, looking for all the world like he was searching for something in particular. "Do you... know something I don't?" she asked after a moment.

"I know what looks good on a woman," Jack replied casually. He suddenly threw another dark article of clothing at her, which she deftly caught out of the air.

Giving the new item a once over, Tazz wrinkled her nose. "Jack, this blouse is see-through. And it won't even cover my shoulders!"

"Trust me, luv," Jack said, still not looking up. "I just need to find ye one more thing." He paused, then lifted his head and looked Tazz up and down, as if evaluating her. "Make that two things," he corrected.

"What are you, my stylist?"

"Well, _someone _has t' show ye what looks good."

"Gee. Thanks, Jack. You're so kind." It wasn't apparent whether he caught the sarcasm or not. Turning the shirt over in her hands, the pants slung over her shoulder, Tazz frowned at the garment. "I hope one of the things you're looking for is something to go under this."

"Not under," Jack corrected. "Over. Here."

Looking up, Tazz was surprised to see Jack holding out what appeared to be a deep red corset. Before she could stop herself, she let out a strangled, "Oh no, not another one."

Jack gave her a chiding look and walked up to her. "It's just a regular bodice, Devil. Whale-free, I assure you." He dropped the bodice into her hands and moved past her, still searching the tables for something in particular. "Now let me find the last thing an' you can try all that on."

"What else do I need?" Tazz asked, holding up the bodice to herself. "My boots are still fine. There's nothing else I could use, is there?"

"Oh yes, there is," Jack replied. "One very crucial bit." He turned towards her and proudly displayed a red bandanna. "The one you're wearin' is ready to fall apart. Time for a new one, luv."

Stepping forward, Tazz help up the end of the cloth. It was thicker than her current one, that was obvious, and it wasn't just a flat red either. There was a black pattern going across the entire bandanna's surface. Smirking, Tazz glanced up at Jack. "Looks strikingly like yours, Jack," she pointed out.

Jack merely waved a hand dismissively. "Hand me your purse so I can barter and go try all than on, Devil. Come find me when you're done." Tazz handed him the pouch of coins, and without another word he turned and swaggered off further into the market, disappearing amongst all the people.

###

Fifteen minutes later, Jack was sprawled out on a low wall, his hat pulled low on his brow to keep the sun out. His shopping was finished; the new item was wrapped in an old cloth and set next to him. Opening one eye, he glanced at the sun's position and frowned. Devil had yet to come back, and it didn't take that long to put on an outfit. He was just about to get up and go look for her when a hand grabbed the hat off his head and yanked it away.

Sitting bolt upright, Jack was ready to turn and duel to the death with the hat thief, but stopped short when he saw none other than Tazz standing behind him. The hat was far too big for her, and hung down over her eyes, but a grin was plainly visible.

"There," she said, spreading her arms. "How do I look?"

Raising an eyebrow in appraisal, Jack looked her over. The breeches seemed to fit nicely and were tucked into her boots. However, he was more interested in how his choice of top would work out. As he had suspected, the bodice fit perfectly, hugging her curves. The deep color set off the still-pale skin of her shoulders and chest, and the long sleeves of the linen shirt underneath disguised the awkward tan lines on her arms. The red bandanna peeked out from under the hat. She was right, it did look a lot like his, and would look even more like his once it had seen some wear. He found he didn't mind. If anyone was going to steal his distinctive look, he'd rather it be Tazz. And it wasn't as if anyone could ever mistake one for the other, in any case.

"Ye look good," Jack told her truthfully. Then he grinned, displaying all four metal-capped teeth. "I'm a genius."

"Of course you are," Tazz conceded, tilting the large tri-corner hat up so she could see. "Why do I think I asked you and not, say, Jonesy?"

Jack stood, plucked his hat from Tazz's head, and settled it on his own. Long, bejeweled fingers made a big show of arranging his hair.

"Something wrong with Mr. Jones' fashion sense?"

Tazz wrinkled her nose. "Jack, he wears a bright green shirt with a turquoise sash."

"Most of the time, he doesn't bother to wear a shirt at all."

"Point. Alright, I'll bite. I wanted you to come because I miss you." She crossed her arms. "You've been busy being captain and I've been busy being deck slave."

A little smile quirked the corner of Jack's mouth. "Aye, lass, that's true. I keep my crew hoppin'." He stepped back and appraised her. "Ye're almost fit to be on me crew. Almost."

Tazz blinked, surprised. "What? Jack! I've been at sea with you for near three months now! I'm the best deck-swabbie you've got and no one's faster up the rigging than I am! Well, except Jonesy, but Caleb says he's part monkey and I believe him." She held out her arms, turning in place. "Come on, I even _look _pirate!"

"Not quite," Jack told her. He reached back onto the wall where he had been sitting, grabbed his cloth-wrapped purchase, and tossed it to her.

As soon as the weight hit her hands, Tazz knew what it was. Her eyes widened. Quickly, she untied the string, and the cloth fell away to reveal a sword.

"Oh my God..." Reverently, she fit her hand into the basket and drew it.

The sword was a short, single-edged saber, the kind pirates referred to as "hangars". The blade was light and fast, curved slightly to deliver a more devastating blow. The leather-wrapped grip was covered with a gleaming brass basket to protect her hand, and the pommel was round and heavy to balance out the weight of the blade. Closer inspection revealed a beautiful etching of a rose in full bloom on the front of the basket.

She looked up to thank Jack and squeaked when she saw he was right in front of her face. He smirked and took the sheath and sword-belt from her off hand.

The belt was supple black leather, thinner than any belt she'd seen on a man, and finished with a matching brass buckle. The sword's sheath dangled from an adjustable frog, crafted from the same black leather. Jack rucked up the bottom hem of her bodice, ignoring her protesting noises, and buckled the belt securely around her natural waist. He rolled the hem back down, covering the belt completely, then knelt at her side. Nimble fingers adjusted the straps of the frog so that the sheath hung at exactly the right angle against her hip. He stood again, and Tazz sheathed her new sword, her left hand automatically coming to rest on the hilt.

"Jack, I... How can I..." She stopped and started over. "Thank you."

"_Now _ye're fit to be on me crew." He dropped his hands on her shoulders, holding her gaze. "And ye won't be caught without a weapon again."

Oh. So that's what this was about. Tazz shook her head vigorously.

"I won't."

Jack nodded, satisfied.

"Good girl."

They spent the rest of the day at the market, and when the sun began to dip towards the horizon, they headed back towards the docks, ready to catch the tide and set sail. Jack meandered up the gang plank first, shouting for Gibbs and barking orders. Tazz followed slightly behind, and was met halfway by Murdoc.

The bandanna-clad pirate caught her casually around the shoulders as she tried to pass. He then held her at arm's length, appraising her new outfit with cool gray eyes.

Tazz froze, caught off guard by his sudden interest. Murdoc was something of an enigma. She didn't know much about him other than that he was a close mate of Jonesy and Caleb. He hardly ever spoke, let alone approached her.

She waited warily while he looked her over, circling like a cat with a mouse. Finally, after a stretch of time, Tazz planted her hands on her hips and grumbled, "Can I help you?"

Murdoc simply held up one finger, indicating for her to be quiet. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, giving her one last look. One corner of his mouth curved into a smug smirk. "Ye'll do."

Tazz blinked. "I'll do what?"

He ignored her, instead shouting over his shoulder, "Caleb!"

Wide-eyed, Tazz waved her hands in his face. "No no no no no," she hissed. But it was too late.

Caleb came into view, leaning against the rail to peer down. "Aye?" he mumbled. Then his eyes fell upon Tazz, and both eyebrows raised. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

And to make matters worse, Jonesy then strode into view, a bucket in one hand and a mop over his shoulder. "What's all the... Oh." His trademark leer immediately crawled across his face, and a low whistle passed his lips. "Lookin' good, Devil," he rumbled.

Tazz couldn't believe it. Harassed by the men twice in three days. "That's it, I'm never buying new clothes again. I'm just gonna wear these clothes until they fall off."

"An' when might that be?" Jonesy asked coyly.

"Bite me."

"Ooh, fiesty."

Tazz paused and cocked her head to the side. "Why are you on mop duty and not Caleb?"

Jonesy merely scowled. Caleb grinned and replied, "I claimed my task from him." Then he began moving down the gangplank. Jonesy followed behind, grumbling to himself.

Tazz crossed her arms over her chest defensively as the two men joined Murdoc's circling prowl. "Are you three quite finished?"

The trio proceeded to ignore her, instead choosing to comment on her appearance.

"Ye look a fine pirate lass," Caleb remarked, nodding in approval.

Jonesy snorted. "She looks a right 'ellion." He reached out and fingered the material of her shirt. One eyebrow hiked up. "Awful thin, ain't it?" he asked.

As Tazz swatted at Jonesy's hand, Murdoc frowned thoughtfully. "Is that th' cap'n's bandanna?"

The other three stopped and stared curiously at him. "No," Tazz replied after a moment.

Murdoc raised an eyebrow.

"But... Jack _did _pick it out," she continued.

With a disbelieving laugh, Jonesy said, "Ye let the cap'n pick out yer clothes? Look 'ow he dresses!"

"Look how _you _dress!" Tazz shot back. "At least Jack _wears _clothes."

Jonesy looked affronted, but before he could bark a retort, Caleb spoke. "That's new," he said, nodding his head at the sword at her waist. "Did ye steal it? Cuz if _I_ cannae afford a new blade, _ye_certainly cannae either."

Tazz gave him a flat stare. "No I did not steal it. Jack bought it for me, because of what happened at the Sea Dragon."

The boys all exchanged glances.

"D' ye know how t' use it?" Murdoc asked.

Tazz frowned. "I know enough."

"She doesn't know 'ow t' use it," Jonesy piped.

"Oh, what, and you're so smart?" Tazz snapped.

The three men smirked at one another. "I'm sure we can teach ye a few things," Caleb purred smoothly.

Tazz's eyebrows hiked up.

###

Never again.

Never again would she take training from all three of them at once. She collapsed into her hammock face-first, nearly pitching right out the other side. She was exhausted.

The bell was chiming eight, meaning eight o'clock had rolled around. A quick nap was in order before she went on duty that night. Tazz flopped onto her back - hammocks were comfortable, but if you laid on your front in one, you'd wake up with a crick in your back - crossed her arms over her chest and was asleep in minutes.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Jack had mentioned they were headed toward Maracaibo, wherever that was. Tazz didn't really care where it was, because it meant she was going to see some action for a change. Finally, she would earn her keep on the ship.

In preparation, the three youngest crew members kept her hopping. Any spare moment she had was spent learning swordplay, grappling, and the techniques of pirating, such as they were. Murdoc explained the basics of a sea battle: broadsides versus raking, how to use the wind, how to win against a bigger ship, how to cripple a ship without damaging its cargo. Caleb even showed her how a cannon worked, though he wouldn't let her load it.

Jonesy spent the next few days taking on jobs for the rest of the crew. Gibbs had him mending sails one night, the next morning saw him scrubbing the chamber pots; one night he was even forced to cook. He took it all with a sheepish smile and minimal grumbling, even though he was obviously dead tired. He knew it could have been much worse. Caleb told Tazz that Jack liked creative punishments, but once he'd resorted to a whipping. The man was trying to incite mutiny. Jack had dealt the lashes himself.

Between the lessons, stowaway-watching duty, and her normal crow's nest shifts, Tazz was exhausted and slept like a rock every night.

She heard the bell toll and cracked open one eye. Her crossed arms were stiff, meaning she'd been there longer than the five minutes it felt like. Midnight already?

Groaning, Tazz rolled out of the hammock and walked out of her room, not bothering to put on her boots. Shaking herself awake as she walked through the halls of the ship, she eventually came to the ladder leading to the deck and climbed up into the night air.

There were still a decent amount of people on the deck, which was surprising considering how much the crew seemed to sleep otherwise. Moving towards the main mast, Tazz began to scale the rigging. The ropes were rough on her feet, but she managed to reach the crow's nest without incident.

And there, sleeping like a baby, was Jonesy. His turquoise sash was flowing along the nest bottom. His sword belt was also slung around his hips, but his saber wasn't attached. Like Tazz, he was barefoot. Unlike Tazz, however, Jonesy was also bare from the waist up.

Tazz scoffed and moved her feet so as not to step on him. "Some lookout you are," she muttered, then lightly nudged him with her foot. "C'mon Sleeping Beauty, your shift is over."

Jonesy didn't move.

Rolling her eyes, Tazz leaned in close to his ear. "Jonesy…" she murmured in the most sultry voice she could manage. He groaned in response, eyes barely opening and a smile just beginning to play on his lips. "_Rise an' shine_!"

In a chaotic flurry of arms and legs, Jonesy sprang to life and flailed around, catching Tazz and sending her reeling off her feet. The end result was Tazz strewn across his lap, Jonesy wide-eyed, one arm around her waist, his face right next to hers. Both were panting and trying to get their startled hearts back down to a normal level of operation.

They stayed like that for a long moment before Jonesy's mouth curved into a wolfish grin. "Well 'ello there, Devil," he rumbled.

Tazz tried to keep from shivering. Her proximity to one Erick Jones was in the red zone, and even though he wasn't her choice of a romantic candidate, she couldn't deny her attraction. Hormones didn't give a rat's ass if you liked someone else.

Narrowing her eyes to a glare, Tazz growled, "Let me up, Jonesy."

Jonesy merely grinned more, his eyes focused on her like a predator on its prey. Instead of letting her to her feet, he moved his hand around her waist, his fingertips grazing the skin under her shirt.

Tazz grabbed his fingers and held them away from her. "I said cut it out," she warned, no louder than before.

"No," Jonesy replied casually. "Because if ye wanted me t' let ye go, ye wouldn't be givin' me warnings. Ye'd've just gotten up by now." He moved in until his face was a mere few inches from hers. "Am I right?"

Tazz's glare didn't recede, even though her heart was beating like a jackhammer. She hoped it was too dark for Jonesy to see her blushing. "Jonesy, I am only somewhat averse to hitting you. Don't make me break your nose."

As if he didn't hear her threat, Jonesy moved his free hand to her small of her back, sliding it up her shirt, tantalizing the skin he touched. Giving a quick tug, he pulled Tazz in against his chest, the wolf-like smirk never leaving his face. "Then go ahead an' hit me," he murmured, his breath warm on Tazz's lips.

Tazz couldn't hold off the shivers now. "Erick, please…" she whispered.

Suddenly, Jonesy let out a bark of laughter and released Tazz. It was so abrupt, Tazz nearly fell forwards. She stared incredulously at him as he gently moved her off his lap and got to his feet. "What? Didjeh think I was really gonna kiss ye?" He winked and swung himself over the nest rail. "Have fun, Tazz." Then he shimmied down the rigging, leaving Tazz to radiate her fury in peace.

After watching Jonesy disappear down the stairs and into the ship's hull, Tazz let out a throaty roar of frustration.

Damn that bastard of a pirate! He knew he was hot and was using it against her. How _dare_he mess with her head like that!

And how dare she let him…

With a heavy sigh, Tazz ran a hand through her hair and stared out off the bow of the ship. How could she have just given in like that? Without even so much as a struggle! What was wrong with her?

Heaving a groan from deep in her throat, she slumped her head against the rail and silently cursed herself. She had to keep that bandit at arms length from this point on. God, what would she have done if she _had_kissed him?

She hated herself a little for even thinking it.

Tazz gazed out at the dark water. There was no sign of anything around, not even a bug. No land was in sight; only the vast stretch of water. Before she knew it, her mind began drifting. Her eyes stayed open, but she was focused on nothing.

Four pairs of two chimes rang out, a little quieter than normal, and Tazz snapped out of her daydreaming. Four hours had passed already? Rubbing her face, she groaned and stretched. How long had she been leaning there staring? Oh well, at least she could go back to bed now.

The graveyard shift on the _Black Pearl_ had always creeped her out. She was used to the ship being loud and full of activity, but at 4:00 AM, the only sights to be had were a handful of crewman wandering around. Landing softly back onto the deck, Tazz dusted her hands off and glanced around the nearly empty ship. The lanterns were lit, but the _Pearl _was still dark and silent.

Oh well, it was time to get some more sleep.

Half an hour later, Tazz had yet to succeed in that endeavor. She wasn't sure if it was because the hammock was unusually uncomfortable tonight or because it was strangely quiet, but Tazz was having no luck getting her eyes to close. She tossed and turned, then tossed some more, before finally heaving herself out of the hammock with a vexed sigh and heading back to the deck.

Dawson nodded in her direction, acknowledging her presence. Tazz nodded back, then made her way to the starboard railing. She looked out over the water, watching the moon reflecting off the black waves. It was almost hypnotizing, the way the light rippled around in the sea, bouncing off the hull of the ship. She found herself simply staring once more.

Two arms snaked around her waist and a firm chest was suddenly against her back. Immediately, she brought back an elbow and drove it into the man's stomach. She heard a satisfying '_oof_' and the figure retreated, allowing her to spin around.

Tazz groaned and rolled her eyes. It figured.

"You are the last person I want to see right now," she grumbled. "What are you doing?"

Jonesy stared at her, looking partly surprised and partly bewildered. His auburn hair hung barely into his eyes, casting a shadow over them. One hand rubbed his stomach gingerly. "Now what was that for?" he whimpered.

"Guess." Tazz sighed and leaned back against the rail, her elbows resting against it. "Why are you still up?" she asked flatly.

Giving a one-shouldered shrug, Jonesy's trademark smirk returned to his face like he'd forgotten he was ever hurt. Who knew, maybe he _was _never hurt. "I couldn't sleep," he replied. "I musta gotten me fill up in th' nest, cuz I couldn't get back to it." He raised a brow at her. "You?"

"Couldn't sleep either," Tazz answered, looking the tall Brit up and down.

Three long slashes ran along his chest, the raised scars marring his otherwise perfect skin. His tanned chest and arms looked golden in the dim lantern light around them, and Tazz had to admit, he had the right to walk around shirtless. He was muscular, like all the crewmen were, but he was also lean whereas most of the other men had more bulk to them.

His smirk turned into a leer. "Find somethin' ye like?" he asked.

Tazz jerked her eyes back to his face. Dammit, she had been staring. "Where'd you get the scars?" she asked casually, her voice not betraying her thoughts, which ran something along the lines of _Nice save, dumbass._

Jonesy glanced at the marks over his heart, his eyebrows hiking up as if he'd forgotten the scars were there. "These? A streetwalker gave me these."

"...Say again?"

He laughed and nodded his head. "You 'eard right. A whore in Tortuga clawed me 'bout three years ago."

Blinking, Tazz scratched the back of her head. "Mind explaining that one? I'm... curious."

"Not much t' explain," Jonesy said with a slight shrug. "Crazy tart got jealous over my seein' _another _tart, barged in on me one night, an' scraped a nice chunk o' skin off me."

Tazz's eyebrows were in her bangs somewhere. "You're telling me that a whore resented you messing around with another whore and decided to take a piece of you with her?"

Jonesy thought it over a moment, then nodded. "Aye, essentially."

"Will the fun ever end?" Tazz asked towards the sky.

"Not likely any time soon, Devil," Jonesy replied bemusedly. "Well, seein' as neither of us can sleep, what'cha wanna do?"

"And how exactly do you mean that, Jonesy?" Tazz asked warily.

His blue eyes seemed to go a shade darker as Jonesy took a smooth step towards her. Tazz in turn took a step to the side. "'Ow exactly'd ye take it, Tazz?" he asked.

"Down, boy," Tazz said, clenching her hands into fists. "Don't think I won't beat you if you try anything."

"What, like ye fought me off before?" Jonesy laughed to himself. A moment later, he stopped and tilted his head, regarding the bristling blonde in front of him. "You'd 'onestly swing at me," he said, somewhat disbelieving. After a moment of stillness, he let out another laugh and took a retreating step back. "Take it easy, Devil. I'm only teasin'."

Tazz frowned at him, but slowly uncurled her fists. "You're not funny," she grumbled. "And of course I would swing at you. You're a wolf in pirate's clothing... or lack thereof, right now."

Jonesy waggled his eyebrows at her. "Just admit ye want me an' everything'll be fine."

It was Tazz's turn to laugh in disbelief. His audacity was absolutely unbelievable. "In your dreams, Mr. Jones," she said, her body relaxing again. "I'm surprised you don't have _more _scars from people you've offended."

"Everyone just falls for me in th' end," he said with a wink. "Never know what 'its 'em."

"Your ego astounds me."

"I could astound ye in other ways if ye'd gimme an 'our of yer time."

"Not a snowflake's chance in Hell."

Another chortle bubbled out of Jonesy's throat. "Ye know Tazz, ye might 'ave more fun in life if ye melt that icy exterior o' yers."

And for the umpteenth time in his life, Jonesy's quick reflexes saved him from unnecessary head trauma. He dodged out of the way as Tazz's foot came snapping at him. Stumbling back, he stared wide-eyed as Tazz put her foot back on the deck.

"I take offense to that, Jonesy," she said slowly, her eyes narrowed, offsetting the devilish smirk on her face.

"You're batty," Jonesy accused, pointing a finger at her. "You were 'bout t' knock my block off."

"Eh, you ducked anyway," Tazz said with a shrug, turning to look back at the sea.

Thank the gods for peripheral vision. She barely had any time to drop to the deck as Jonesy's hand went swiping over her head. She fell hard onto the wood, quickly rolling sideways and away from where her assailant stood. Getting back to her feet, she stared incredulously at Jonesy.

"You just swung at me when my head was turned," she snarled. "Cheat!"

Jonesy looked himself over, then spread his arms and said, "Pirate."

"Why you sneaky little..." Tazz sprang at Jonesy, hitting him square in the chest. Both went tumbling to the deck, going rolling in a flurry of arms and legs.

Getting his arms under Tazz's torso, Jonesy tossed her off of him and rolled onto his hands and knees. Tazz had landed on her back five feet away. She sat up slowly, wincing.

"That'll teach ye," Jonesy mumbled, getting to his feet.

Tazz also got to her feet, albeit slower. "Ow." She stared at Jonesy. "When did you learn how to grapple?"

"You kiddin'? I've always known 'ow. I'd be dead if I didn't." Jonesy rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn, lass, ye nearly ripped my 'ead from me shoulders."

"Ah, he's uncovered my plan of attack," Tazz narrated idly. "I'll have to kill him quickly."

Jonesy slowly grinned. "Come an' try."

The other pirates patrolling the ship stopped and watched as Tazz and Jonesy swung and ducked, dipped and rolled all over the deck. They seemed evenly matched... from a distance.

Tazz was way out of her league. She was barely avoiding all the swings Jonesy was throwing at her. He was faster then she had given him credit for, and his reflexes were quite possibly the best she'd ever seen. He moved with a fluidity that was almost graceful, weaving away from her strikes like they were the slowest things in the world. She hadn't touched him once during the entire spar, while Jonesy had managed to push her off balance every time he reached out.

Jonesy noticed this as well. "Yer too tense," he commented coolly, easily ducking under Tazz's punch. "Ye need t' relax, otherwise ye overextend an' end up wide open." He suddenly grabbed her extended arm and yanked her towards him, spinning her around 180° just before her back hit his chest. Before she could escape, he gripped both her wrists behind her back and looped his other arm around her exposed neck, tilting her chin up with the crook of his elbow.

Panting from overexertion, Tazz cautiously swallowed and tried not to move her locked arms. She resisted the urge to shudder as a small droplet of sweat slithered down between her shoulder blades and along the middle of her back. How humiliating... She had _never _been caught so easily before, and for Jonesy of all people to have done it!

"Not all yer opponents're gonna be drunkards or simpletons," Jonesy murmured in her ear. "Slow down, Tazz... 'S not _that _'ard..."

She wasn't sure if it was because her body was dripping with sweat, the fact that she was pressed against an attractive member of the opposite sex, or because of Jonesy's purr right next to her ear, but Tazz's heart picked up a few paces. Jonesy had a very strong effect on her and made her body act out of line from her brain.

Jonesy's arm loosened from around her neck and his hand slowly slid along her collar, his fingers scarcely touching her skin. His hand paused at the middle of her body, hovering over her breastbone, and Tazz felt his lips graze against the side of her neck. She couldn't hide the shiver this time, and it eagerly raced up her spine and spread to her shoulders.

The next thing Jonesy felt was Tazz spinning out of his grip and the back of her hand striking his face. His head snapped to the side, a stinging sensation dancing along his cheek. After the white specks had faded, he slowly lifted his head and leered at Tazz. "Now what was that for…?" he rumbled.

Tazz was standing a few paces away, breathing hard. "If you _ever _try that again, I'll gut you," she whispered hoarsely. Her body was still trembling slightly.

The warning went unheard by Jonesy, and his smile took on a predatory edge. He took a slow step forwards, and Tazz retreated back. "Tell me why yer backin' away," he asked, his voice low. "Ye weren't puttin' up much of a fight a minute ago..."

"If you come one step closer, I'll call Jack. Don't even think I'm bluffing."

Jonesy stopped where he stood. Normally, that kind of threat would have done nothing to steer him away from what he wanted, but seeing as Tazz was far from a normal situation, he didn't risk it. "Yer not as tough as you think ye are, Tazz," he said. "And yer not good at hidin' yer feelin's neither."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tazz growled, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away.

She didn't even get the chance to gasp before Jonesy's hand was over her mouth, the other gripping one arm so she couldn't run off. "Don't scream," he murmured in her ear. "Let's just talk, aye? Now if I let ye go, will ye come an' listen t' me?"

She weighed her options. She slowly nodded her head.

Jonesy released her, as promised, and Tazz didn't bolt. Instead, she followed the tall pirate to one side of the deck, away from the handful of crewmen making an obvious show of listening in.

"What in the nine hells do you want, Jonesy?" she asked, clearly vexed. "You have whores abound all over the Caribbean. Why are you bothering me?"

That smirk should be illegal. He lowered his head, eyes capturing her gaze. "Cuz I get what I want."

His look was enough to make Tazz's knees weak. Oh man, she had it _bad_. The fact that she hadn't had sex in what felt like an eon didn't help matters, either. Nope, no matter how much she fought it, she knew she really did want this.

Looking around the deck, Tazz saw that, even though they had moved away, the crew simply moved in and all eyes were on them. Well, _that _wouldn't do. The last thing she needed was the crew getting any nefarious ideas. They had enough as it was.

She placed a hand on Jonesy's chest, digging her nails in slightly and dragging downwards. Jonesy let out a rumbling growl, and Tazz smirked, shoving him as hard as she could.

Jonesy, caught completely off guard, stumbled backwards and landed on his ass. When he looked back up, Tazz was walking back below decks.

She looked over her shoulder and smirked.

Jonesy sat for a minute, too shocked to move. He watched her blonde head disappear as Dawson walked up behind him.

"Tough luck, mate," he said. Jonesy hardly heard him. He got to his feet, debating whether he should follow. Dawson stayed just over his shoulder. "Think I've got a chance?"

Jonesy paused, then slowly turned and looked at Dawson incredulously. "Ye mus' be jokin'." Without another thought, he turned and raced down the stairs after Tazz. The halls below decks were cramped and dark as they always were, but Jonesy knew exactly where he was going.

Tazz, meanwhile, had made it to her room without incident. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed heavily. The buzz was wearing off, and she found herself wondering what had brought that on in the first place. She wasn't the flirty type, and flirting with Jonesy, of all people, was like playing with a pipe bomb. He was a disaster waiting to happen.

And he was slamming the door to her room.

Tazz jumped back, almost immediately hitting the wall on the opposite side of the doo_r. _Jonesy followed.

The next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers, his hands trapping her wrists against the wall.

And she didn't fight it.

The kiss was searing. She had so much pent up sexual frustration that she nearly ripped Jonesy's pants off then and there. Unfortunately, she didn't have use of her hands.

The feel of his hips pressed against hers drove a groan from her throat. Jonesy pulled back momentarily to look at her.

"Wot's this?" he asked, his voice half smug, half truly disbelieving, and all breathless. "No violence? No threats ta me manhood?"

Tazz growled and wrenched one of her hands out from his grip, gripping the back of his neck and rolling her hips.

"I'm not threatenin'," she hissed.

Jonesy's moan was full-throated and heartfelt. Tazz didn't bother to fight the grin of triumph. Her satisfaction was short-lived, however, because Jonesy took advantage of his freed hand and attacked the laces on her bodice.

Tazz pulled him down into another kiss, fully intending to distract him, but she got so lost in the battle of tongue and teeth and lips that she ended up being the one distracted, and the next thing she knew, her bodice was on the floor at her feet.

_Holy crap_, she thought. She'd met men who had serious problems undoing a bra with both hands. Jonesy had completely unlaced a _bodice _with one hand, without looking, and while kissing her hard enough that she hadn't noticed anything else he was doing.

One of the things that had pleased her the most about the bodice was that it had eliminated the need for a bra. Her own 21st century undergarments had nearly fallen apart with constant wear; it was nice to give her poor overworked bra a break. The downside was that now she was clothed only in the nearly translucent, wispy black peasant top, which slid off her shoulders and clung to her breasts and was generally more like lingerie than a shirt. She was suddenly exposed. She hadn't been expecting it, and she wasn't sure she liked it.

One look at Jonesy changed her mind. His look of stunned rapture made her feel like the sexiest sexy thing to ever be sexy. She had a brief flash of what he'd said in Tortuga - _maybe you should let Tazz out t' play more often_- and, with sudden clarity, realized why he was so stunned. Despite all his arrogant claims and his shameless flirting, Jonesy never thought she'd really give in.

She'd surprised him, and that gave her the upper hand. This was a chance she might never have again, and she decided to take full advantage of it.

Utilizing her newly minted hand-to-hand abilities, Tazz spun under Jonesy's arm. His grip on her wrist dragged him around with her, knocking him off balance. She yanked said wrist back, hooking her heel behind his knee, and in the next moment he was flat on his butt, his back to the wall. She straddled his legs, pinning his wrists under her knees, and kissed him as hard as she possibly could.

She'd been told, in the past, that she had control issues, but she'd never really believed it until right then. Because every time Jonesy tried to free his hands, or move his hips, or take control of the kiss, she dug her nails in or bit down on his skin. Not enough to really hurt him, just enough to let him know that _she_was driving this encounter, thank you very much.

After the fourth time she stopped him from moving, Jonesy actually _snarled _at her, his lip curling. She hid a groan, because yeah, that was hot.

"If we're doing this," Tazz informed him, her lips close enough to brush his ear, "we're doing it _my _way."

Jonesy rubbed his face along the side of her head, forcibly pushing it so that he had access to her ear.

"One hand," he said, punctuating it with kitten-licks along the shell of her ear. "Let me have jus' one."

Tazz smirked. "Only if you're good."

"I'll be good I'll be good I'll be good," he whimpered, breathing heavily against her neck. "Please just one."

Maybe it was the whine in his voice, maybe it was the 'please', but against her better judgement, Tazz lifted one of her knees and let Jonesy take back one arm.

She was immediately shoved backward, landing hard on her back. Moments later, before she could even lift her head, Jonesy was on top of her, shoving his way between her knees and grabbing for her hands.

Tazz lunged forward, grabbing the bottom of his jaw with her teeth. "That. Wasn't. Nice," she growled.

Jonesy knocked her head back and immediately covered her mouth with his. The battle for control of Tazz's hands became secondary to the fierce kisses. Trying to get closer, Jonesy pressed his hips forward, grinding against Tazz's inseam. The resulting moan he wouldn't have traded for all the gold in Maracaibo.

As much as he wanted to savor every second of this, Jonesy knew the crew had a penchant for being incredibly nosy, and that they didn't have much time before _someone _heard them and began a camp-out outside the door. Never ceasing the kiss, he pulled Tazz's blouse down further on her arms. It took everything he had to not stop and stare at her skin and feel his way along every centimeter of her. Alas, he had a time limit.

His mouth captured hers, attacking until Tazz's back was bowed. Her hips drove forward into his, causing his eyes to flutter closed briefly and a groan to escape. He wasn't about to take much more teasing. The pants were coming off. Sitting up onto his knees, Jonesy grabbed the waist of Tazz's pants and yanked them down to her mid-thigh. He scrambled out of the way so he could remove them completely.

Before Tazz knew what was happening, she felt her pants get pulled past her ankles and vanish. Sitting bolt upright, she was about to say something, but then caught sight of Jonesy.

He had gone completely still. His eyes traveled distractedly over her from toes to waist, jaw slack. For a moment, it seemed he'd forgotten what he was doing. Slowly, as if she might disappear, he touched her leg. As soon as his fingertips came in contact with her skin, he jolted back to the present. Tazz didn't get a chance to speak before he lowered his head and began laying kisses along her thigh, his fingers ghosting over her.

Tazz let out a tiny moan and let her head fall back. She felt his hand creep higher, brushing against the waistband of her underwear. It caused her to gasp. "Jonesy," she whispered.

That was all he needed. Hearing his name, Jonesy grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up with him as he stood. He lifted her up and put her against the wall, pinning her there with his body.

Suddenly, a massive explosion jarred the ship and all its cargo, human or otherwise.

Tazz and Jonesy pitched back from the wall, hitting the floor hard. After a quick moment of stunned silence, they rapidly pulled their discarded clothing back on and raced into the hall. They both knew that sound.

Cannon fire.

* * *

For those interested, there's a couple (old) fanarts for this chapter, found here. (Ew. FFnet still hasn't figured out how to use links yet?) Just erase the spaces.

ladyaura. deviantart gallery /?catpath=/ #/dym4t6

and

ladyaura. deviantart gallery /?catpath=/ #/dyjez1


	9. Aruba

Jack shot out of his cabin, wide-eyed and saber drawn. The cannon fire jolted him awake, along with everyone else on the ship. From below, half the crew came pouring up onto the deck. Most were still half-asleep, but had weapons drawn and were ready to fight.

To everyone's immense surprise, the _Pearl _was very alone in the vast ocean.

Jack blinked a few times, but another ship never appeared. Slowly, he scanned his crew, each looking more confused than the last.

"What... happened?" Jack asked slowly, half-expecting someone to pull a cannon out from under their shirt.

No one had a chance to answer before Caleb poked his head up from below decks. "Cap'n!" he called. "We have a problem."

Jack turned towards him, the motion almost menacing. "Do tell, Mr. Arvin."

"It's the girl. She-"

Jack didn't give Caleb a chance to finish. He's heard all he needed. Bursting into motion, Jack stormed past Caleb and down through the hull of the ship. He heard the crew following behind him, all talking in confused voices.

As he rounded one corner, he saw Jonesy and Tazz standing in the doorway of Tazz's room. Jonesy was trying to keep Tazz from leaving, and Tazz was trying to simultaneously shove past him and tie on her bodice. As he got closer, he heard Jonesy yelling.

"Yer not goin'! We don' know who it is an' yer _not_ gettin' hurt again!"

Tazz snarled, "Jonesy, if you don't move I'll-"

"May as well let her out, Mr. Jones," Jack said as he passed. "There is no enemy."

Jonesy, surprised by the wave of men, lost his focus and Tazz slipped past him into the flow of people. Snaking her way through, she managed to catch up to Jack at the front. "What's going on?" she asked.

Jack didn't turn to look at her, instead keeping up his march towards the cannons. "We'll see," he growled.

They arrived a minute later. As Jack and the crew entered the gun deck, all stopped in surprise. Jack had to blink a few more times to fully comprehend what he was seeing. Standing there attempting to look as innocent as angels, and failing miserably, were Pintel and Ragetti. Gabrielle was a few feet away near a recently disturbed cannon, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Her golden curls were frizzled and coated in black soot from the blow-back. Beside them was a large hole in the side of the ship where the cannonball had blasted through.

Tazz's jaw fell open. "Holy shit."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jack's reaction had not been pretty. Pintel and Ragetti had been reduced to no better than slaves. Jack had them doing everything he could think of, from cleaning the darkest, dustiest corners of the ship to merely sitting to one side of the deck where he could watch them. The girl had once more been locked into a cabin, not free to wander about unless Jack specifically wanted her taken somewhere. Even then, she always had at least one escort. Jack was _pissed_.

He decided they were going to sail towards Aruba to make repairs. The repairs would have been easy, had it been just a cannonball hole. However, the cannon hadn't been strapped down, so with the kickback, it swung sideways, ripping a nice chunk out of the hull. Aruba wasn't far, only about a days journey. In the meantime, everyone stayed well out of Jack's way. Most of his anger was aimed at Pintel and Ragetti, true, but he was liable to snap at anyone nearby.

Tazz watched from the safety of the crow's nest as he stormed across the deck and disappeared below decks, probably to find the two idiots responsible and make them clean the chamber pots for the third time today. She let out a sigh and shook her head. She'd never seen Jack in such a state. It almost scared her, but she knew Jack would never take out his frustrations on someone who didn't deserve them.

As her eyes flitted over the deck, she suddenly locked gazes with Jonesy. Tazz froze. He was just standing there, leaning against his mop, staring up at her. Tazz was too far away to accurately read his expression, but it seemed almost... disappointed.

She immediately looked away. She hadn't spoken to him since the explosion. In fact, she'd been going out of her way to avoid him. Last night had been a mistake. A huge, hormone-induced mistake. Thankfully, Jonesy appeared to have at least one ounce of honor in him and he hadn't said anything to anyone. Calming her suddenly rapid heartbeat, Tazz risked a glance back down.

He was still watching her. This time, Tazz was unable to tear her gaze away. Jonesy watched her for another long moment, then finally looked away first, shaking his head and walking off. For Tazz, it felt almost like a kick in the gut. So now _she_ was the bad guy? She hadn't asked him to come into her room!

But she hadn't stopped him either...

Tazz frowned and looked out at the ocean. It was her fault. She hadn't told him no. Hell, she'd been just as eager and willing as he was. And it wasn't like it had been a bad experience. On the contrary, Jonesy managed to set her every nerve on fire, and she was positive that if they hadn't been interrupted, it would have been amazing.

It didn't change the fact that it would have been a disastrous idea.

"Yer face if gonna get stuck like tha' if ye keep frownin'."

Tazz gasped and leapt nearly clear out of the crow's nest. Beside her, Caleb jolted backwards.

"Sorry! Sorry, I thought ye heard me come up," he said, reaching out to pull her away from the edge of the nest. "I didnae mean t' scare ye."

Tazz gulped down a few lungfuls of air, her hand clutching at her racing heart. "Jesus, I need to get you guys bells," she panted. "To what do I owe the visit?" she asked, calming herself.

Caleb smiled. "I need a reason?"

Tazz cocked a brow.

"A'right, ye she-demon. I'm hidin' so's not to get nabbed for Gabby-walkin' duty."

"Good reason," Tazz acquiesced. "So how long does Jack figure repairs will take?"

Caleb shrugged. "We won't be sure till we dock an' are able t' give it a proper look. I'd wager no more than a day, tops."

Tazz gave a vague nod in response. "So what happens during repairs? Not everyone can help, so do the rest of us just scurry off and get as drunk as possible in a short span of time?"

"Uh, well, ye can I s'pose," Caleb said with a chuckle, "though I can't right say I can see you doin' just that."

"Neither can I, but it's an idea," Tazz replied. She then recalled the look of disappointment on Jonesy's face, and her smile faded slightly. "A tempting one at that."

~*~*~*~*~

They arrived on the coast of Aruba around ten in the morning, and were docked by eleven. As expected, many of the men immediately went ashore and headed for the bars and brothels. Tazz lagged a little behind, taking in the view from the crow's nest.

They had passed a beautiful beach on their way in, and Tazz was determined to figure out how to get there. After tilting and turning and standing on her tiptoes, as if that would help, she spotted what appeared to be a road in the direction she wanted to go. With that, she scurried down the rigging and set off across the town.

Once out of the port, Aruba was just as breathtaking as all those travel brochures described. After climbing to a high point on the island, Tazz looked out over the empty coast. It was nothing but palm trees, white sand, and blue ocean. After taking nearly five minuets to stare in awe, Tazz continued onwards, heading down the path towards the empty beach.

There was a small inlet to one side of the stretch of sand, white waves breaking against the rocks that peaked fifteen feet above the water surface. Making her way onto the outcropping, she looked out at the landscape.

The waves were peaceful and the sky was cloudless. The sun beating down on her back had probably warmed the waves to near perfect.

Yeah, she had to go swimming. Thankfully, she'd had the foresight to wear her old black shorts and ratty top instead of her new outfit.

She looked over her shoulders, making sure no one was peeping on her. After deeming the area secure, she sighed and pulled off her top, leaving on her ragged black bra. Frowning down at the undergarment, Tazz briefly considered taking it off as well, but decided against it. She tossed her shirt to the side, pulled off her boots, and leaned over the edge of the rock and peered into the water. No rocks were visible in the clear sea, so there was nothing to hurt herself on. Backing up slightly, she took a deep breath, then slowly grinned. A split second later, she went running forwards, leaping off the boulder and sailing through the air with a howl of delight. Her airborne state lasted only a moment before she hit the water and went under.

The Caribbean waves were indeed warm, but soon Tazz had to crash to the surface for air. She flipped her wet hair out of her face and tread water for a moment, then took another breath and submerged. She swam through the sea like it was second nature, every so often coming up for another breath of air. After ten minutes of swimming, Tazz made her way to the beach and walked up along the sand, then climbed back up onto the outcropping.

She was met by Caleb and Jonesy lying on their stomachs, peering over the side of the rock. Caught totally off guard, Tazz didn't know how to handle the situation at first. She had been trying to keep her distance from Jonesy since... since _then_, but now she was suddenly accosted by him _and _Caleb and she had no idea what to do.

Jonesy grinned. "'Ave I ever mentioned that yer a fantasy made real?"

Tazz went very still. Huh. So he wasn't going to make some sly off-handed comment about what happened? Then maybe she could just play it cool as well. "How long have you two been there...?"

"We followed ye when ye wandered away from the docks," Caleb answered, a smirk on his face as well. "At first, it was cuz we didn't want ye t' go off alone, but then ye started actin' like a mermaid, so we stuck around."

"You two are unbelievable," Tazz muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you." She stared at Caleb. "I'd expect something like this from him," she jerked her head at Jonesy, "but _you?_"

Before Caleb could think of a decent response, Jonesy jumped in. "Oh, Caleb can be just as bad as me. The only difference is 'e doesn't let ye see it."

Caleb whopped him upside the head.

"What?" Jonesy yowled. "'S true."

None of this made Tazz feel much better. "Great; so I have two perverts to deal with."

"Ye do not," Caleb argued. "It's just... Well, ye did look pretty incredible down there."

Tazz bit the inside of her cheek to maintain her 'I'm not happy' face. "Well, I was planning on going back in, but with you two vultures watching me, I think I'm gonna just go into town." She held out one hand, the other continuing to cover her chest. "Hand me my shirt."

Jonesy looked affronted. "Are ye mad?" He tucked the shirt underneath where he lie. "Ye'll 'ave t' best me in combat first."

"Don't think I won't."

"Hold on, you two," Caleb cut in. "Before ye kill him, why not let us go swimmin' with ye?"

Jonesy immediately grinned. "I love th' way yer brain works."

Tazz raised a brow, ignoring Jonesy's statement. "Oh?"

Caleb shrugged and got to his feet. "Why not? It's hot as ever, an' ye can't keep an entire beach t' yerself."

Jonesy, too, stood up, purposely kicking Tazz's shirt further behind him. "Aye, Tazz. Mind if we join ye?"

This had 'won't end well' written all over it, but Tazz rolled her eyes and shrugged. "If you really want to..." A few moments later, the only thing the two men still had on were their pants and Tazz had to make a conscious effort to keep her eyes on their faces. "Okay then. Go on in. Water's fine."

Jonesy gave her a patronizing look, but it was offset by the leer on his lips. "What, an' let ye run off while we're not lookin'? By all means, ladies first." He gave a sweeping bow, his arm stretched towards the outcropping.

Tazz let a sinister grin cross her face. Before Jonesy could catch his balance, she darted in and shoved him hard, sending him toppling to the rock's edge. However, she didn't take into account his quick reflexes. He managed to grab her wrist as he fell over the side, pulling her down with him.

And to add the icing to the cake, Caleb grabbed Tazz's other hand, trying to keep her from falling in too, but only ended up getting pulled over himself.

The three crashed into the water below, immediately splashing to the surface for air. Jonesy took a gasping breath, then turned wide eyes on Tazz. "What the 'ell was that for?" he cried.

"Oh stop whining, you sissy," Tazz muttered, pushing her hair back from her face. "You got your revenge, and I hope you're happy."

Jonesy stared incredulously at her. "Are ye tryin' t' say that you getting' pulled in is my fault? If ye 'adn't tried t' push me in in the first place, we'd all be fine."

Before Tazz could argue, Caleb splashed the both of them with a wave of water. He grinned as the two looked murderously at him. "Lighten up, you two. Let's have some fun b'fore all hell breaks loose, aye?"

They couldn't deny, Caleb was right. Grins crossed their faces and the three forgot all previous obligations to anything, instead choosing to splash in the ocean like little kids.

Nearly an hour later, they were too tired to keep treading water and opted to head back to the white sand of the beach. There, they stretched out, letting the sun's rays dry them off.

Jonesy lay sprawled on his stomach, his arms folded under his head and his eyes closed. Whether or not he was sleeping was anyone's guess. Caleb and Tazz were resting on their backs. Tazz had her arms folded behind her head, while Caleb's hands were clasped over his stomach.

Yawning widely, Caleb groaned a little and flipped onto his stomach in a position similar to Jonesy's. Sand coated his back and legs. "So," he mumbled, eyes closed, "was yer day off decent?"

Tazz laughed and shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. "I dunno. I got to spend it on a beautiful beach with two attractive, shirtless guys. I think that's a success."

Caleb smirked and cracked open one eye. "Doesn't take much t' please ye, does it?"

"Yeah, I'm simple like that," Tazz replied. She turned her head to the other side, observing Jonesy's still form for a moment. "D'ya think he's really asleep?"

Caleb shrugged one shoulder. "With him, who knows? Poke him with a stick, see if he moves."

"Poke me an' ye'll be very sorry," Jonesy mumbled in reply, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Well, that answers that." Tazz slowly sat up, brushing the sand off her back. "C'mon, quit layin' there like a lump."

"Which one?" Caleb muttered.

"Either. I'm bored."

"But the sun's all warm an' I'm nice an' cozy," Jonesy groaned, still not moving.

The next thing he felt was a ball of sand pelting him in the face.

Springing up onto his knees, Jonesy yelped and sputtered, vigorously wiping the sand off his face. "Ugh!" he cried, turning flabbergasted eyes on Tazz. "Ye little cretin!"

Tazz just sat there grinning. "It got you up," she pointed out.

Two point three seconds later, Tazz was running for her life down the beach, Jonesy hot on her heels. He was surprisingly quick on his feet for having just woken up. Tazz could feel him just out of arm's reach behind her. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty; she should have remembered that Jonesy's legs were longer than hers, his endurance was higher, and he had the tenacity of a hunting dog.

She was doomed.

An arm suddenly caught her around the waist, stopping her abruptly, and she lurched and fell to the sand. Jonesy stumbled as well, pitching forward and collapsing next to her; his arms were still holding her around the middle, his chest pressed to her back.

Out of breath, Jonesy and Tazz didn't move for a minute. They merely stayed where they were, panting for air. Finally, Tazz rolled sideways, lying on her back. Jonesy's arm lay across her stomach, his other under the small of her back. The fall had covered then in sand, making them ever dirtier than they already were.

"Okay," Tazz panted, "you win."

"Not yet, I don't," Jonesy growled.

Before Tazz could move, Jonesy got up, lifting her off the ground bridal-style. With a yelp, Tazz stared bewildered at him. "What are you doing?"

Jonesy just grinned. "Gettin' revenge."

Then with three quick strides, Jonesy skipped up to the water's edge and unceremoniously threw Tazz into the ocean. She landed with a splash and went under. Jonesy laughed and waited for her to rocket up, angry as ever.

Half a minute later, and she still hadn't come back up.

Starting to worry, Jonesy called out, "Okay Tazz, 's not funny anymore. Quit it."

Nothing.

"Shite," Jonesy cursed. He went crashing into the waves, looking around for Tazz until he was waist-deep in the water. "Tazz!"

And then he was bowled off his feet, fell into the water, and had his pants yanked off.

Coming back to the surface and gasping a ragged breath, Jonesy saw Tazz in the shallows, his pants held aloft victoriously. She grinned happily and Jonesy gaped at her.

"Oh bugger, not again..." Jonesy groaned. "Tazz, don't even think about it!" he shouted.

"Too late!" Tazz called back, racing for the outcropping on which the rest of their clothes were strewn. She leapt over Caleb, who was watching her curiously, and scaled the rock, quickly gathering up all of Jonesy's clothes.

Once Caleb realized what Tazz was doing, he burst into laughter. "Brilliant! As if once wasn't humiliatin' enough, twice!"

"Caleb!" Jonesy howled. "What'd I ever do t' you?"

Before he could answer, Tazz directed their attention. "Oh Jonesy," she called in a sing-song. She stood triumphantly on the outcropping, holding Jonesy's sash high. "I'll leave this for you!"

Jonesy watched in depressed resignation as Tazz and Caleb raced off back towards the port. He sighed heavily. "Damn 'em t' Hell..."

~*~*~*~*~

Jack stared at Tazz curiously as she strolled back onto the deck, Caleb behind her. "Might I inquire as to why you're carrying Mr. Jones' clothes?" he asked.

Tazz halted and tried not to snicker. Caleb straightened up as well. "Well–" Tazz began.

"Stop, I withdraw said inquiry. I realize I don't want to know," Jack interrupted. "Decided we'll head out tomorrow morning," he continued. "The Pearl is nearly repaired as is, so we'll take a short leave here and be out at high tide."

"Got it," Tazz affirmed, nodding her head.

A moment later, Jack snorted and valiantly bit back laughter. Before Caleb could ask if he was okay, Jack pointed to the gang plank behind them.

Tazz turned around, only to be horrified to see Jonesy behind them. He was still sopping wet, his sash wrapped around his waist nearly three times to cover him from hips to mid-thigh. The glare on his face could peel paint from a wall.

Her preservation instinct kicked in, and Tazz smiled disarmingly. "You made it back quick," she mentioned offhandedly.

Jonesy's glare didn't recede, and his voice was cold. "You, Devil, are amazingly lucky yer too beautiful t' kill."

"Indeed," Tazz squeaked.

Jonesy's angry gaze abruptly shifted to Caleb. "Yer not." Then he burst into motion and chased Caleb below decks. The two vanished with the sound of thudding feet.

Tazz was left blinking at the spot the two had just been. Sighing, she tossed Jonesy's clothes down the stairs leading below decks and rubbed her forehead. "What have I gotten myself into?" she grumbled.

"That's _your _little problem," Jack replied, "and as such, no longer my own. I wish you the best of luck."

She cast him a withering look. "Go do some captain-y things, aye?"

"Brilliant suggestion, Devil."

A few minutes after Jack had sauntered off, Jonesy came marching back on decks, tying his sash back into place around the waist of his reacquired pants. He was wetter than he had been before, and Caleb was nowhere in sight. This was a tad worrisome, but Tazz didn't get much time to ponder it before Jonesy started speaking. "Not tha' I don't enjoy th' idea of ye strippin' me of my britches, if ye ever do it again without my consent, I'm returnin' th' favor." He shot her a look that clearly stated he knew exactly what he had just said.

Tazz's brow furrowed at the glance, then she moved on. "So," she said, "uh, why are you suddenly all wet and where is Caleb?"

Jonesy grinned. "Is tha' th' order of importance?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Th' bastard threw a mopping bucket at me, so I tied 'im to 'is hammock." He suddenly bent over and shook his head vigorously, spraying water everywhere like a giant dog.

Tazz stared at him as he stood back up. His hair was now about twice the volume it normally was, sticking out in every direction imaginable. "Furball," she muttered.

Jonesy frowned a little. "So?"

Tazz rolled her eyes and went down to the quarters to rescue Caleb. She passed through the doorway just in time to see Caleb struggle his way into flipping the hammock, leaving him hanging face-down underneath it, his back bowed at an extremely uncomfortable-looking angle. Tazz quickly made her way over to his side and knelt so she could see his face.

He looked up at her imploringly, his fair Irish skin flushed a deep tomato red with embarrassment. Tazz clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back giggles.

"I'd hoped ye would never see me in such a position," Caleb told her with more than a bit of a pout in his voice. Tazz just shook her head and stood to work at the ropes that bound Caleb to the hammock.

Caleb was bound around the shoulders, waist, and both ankles. The rope around his waist also looped around his wrists, and all three lengths of rope were tightly woven into the hammock and knotted with sailor's knots, the kind that only tightened the more they were pulled. Tazz dug her fingers into the knot at the small of his back, but it was no use.

She frowned. "Jesus, he really did a job on these. How the hell did he get you to hold still long enough?"

"Knocked me head." Caleb jerked his chin at the heavy belaying pin laying on the floor off to the side. "I was only out for a few seconds but he's a quick bastard."

Tazz shook her head. "You two play too rough. I can't get these with my hands." She made to draw her sword but a touch on her arm stopped her.

"Let me."

Tazz blinked at Murdoc, who appeared behind her seemingly from nowhere. She glanced at his hip, but there was no sword or dagger in sight. Now that she thought about it, she'd never seen him carry a weapon at all. He'd borrowed Jonesy's hanger the one time she'd sparred with him.

Tazz opened her mouth to ask how he was planning on freeing Caleb. Before she could, though, there was a whirl of steel and mahogany and a balisong knife appeared in his hand as if by magic.

Tazz's jaw dropped. She'd seen butterfly knives before, but that had been in 21st century America. She'd always assumed they were fairly modern, like switchblades. Something that came about in the 1930's or something like that.

Murdoc slid the six-inch blade under the knot and twisted his hand, and the rope gave like thread. He swiftly cut the other two ropes, and Caleb fell to the deck, catching himself gracefully on his hands and rolling out from under the hammock.

"Ye didn't slice up me bed, did ye?" he asked, inspecting the hammock. Murdoc smirked and flipped the knife closed.

"Did ye think I would?"

Tazz was busy staring at the butterfly knife in Murdoc's hand. "Where did you learn to use that?" she asked.

Murdoc turned his attention towards her. "This?" he asked, gesturing to the knife in his hand. He smirked. "I'm trained in eskrima."

"Eskrima? Isn't that kali?" Tazz asked.

It was Murdoc's turn to look a little confused. "Kali?" he repeated.

Tazz shook her head. Must have been a modern term. "Nevermind. Where'd you learn it? The Philippines are a long way from here."

The smirk came back and Murdoc glanced at Caleb, as if sharing an inside joke. "My mother was half Filipino. My uncle took me there for training when I was young."

Well, that was the most information she'd ever gotten out of Murdoc about himself. Fascinating. Figuring it was better to quit while she was ahead, Tazz let the subject drop, turning to Caleb. Before she could say anything, though, Jack's all-too-familiar holler rang out.

"Caleb!"

Caleb stood up straight, surprised by the shout. "Aye, Cap'n?" he called back.

Jack poked his head into the room. "Ah, there you are. For someone so capacious, you elude detection quite well. However, your size and stealth are neither here nor there. I need you to take over for Dawson with repairs. The twit put a nail into his hand."

Tazz cringed at the thought, but Caleb merely nodded. "Aye, Cap'n. Be right there." He sighed as Jack vanished back the way he'd come. "So much for a respite," he mumbled. "I'll catch up t' you lot t'night. We're meeting at the Bold Jackal Tavern later."

"The Bold Jackal?" Tazz repeated. "Who's in charge of naming these taverns?"

Caleb merely shrugged and ducked out into the hall.

~*~*~*~*~

As agreed, Tazz made her way to the Bold Jackal after sunset. By then, the tavern was already crammed full, but she snaked her way through the crowds and managed to get to the bar. She swiftly ordered a hard cider and managed to find the single empty table in the whole building.

Nursing her cider, Tazz scanned the tavern. Assorted members of the crew were scattered about, laughing and drinking. Caleb was hard to miss, as he was half a head taller than anyone else in the place. He was laughing at some joke that Sebastian had just told. Tazz smirked. He was too adorable for his own good. There was a red bandanna tied loosely around his neck, probably leftover from keeping dust out of his face from his earlier carpenter shift. It just added another element to his slightly country boy demeanor.

Going back to her drink, she suddenly found an unfamiliar man sitting down across from her. Before barking at him to buzz off, she figured there were no open seats anywhere else, so she let it slide and stared at her mug. It wasn't until he started speaking that Tazz realized the mistake of not kicking him out immediately.

"Wot's a pretty young thing like yerself doin' here?" he rasped. "Lookin' fer some fun, aye?"

"No," Tazz said coldly. "Look somewhere else."

"But I like wot I see right here." A low snicker ground out of his throat. "C'mon lass, I'll be gentle with ye."

Tazz kept her skin from crawling away by sheer will alone, because her skin sure as hell wanted to go run and hide. "Back off, pal. I don't wanna hurt you," she growled, not bothering to make eye contact.

The drunk scoffed, seeming offended. He sneered at her. "Yer probably one of them types wot likes women, ain't ye? Yer afraid o' men, ain't ye?"

Tazz rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I'd have bigger concerns if I was intimidated of you."

Seemingly out of nowhere, Caleb appeared beside Tazz. "He botherin' ye Devil?" he rumbled, leveling a dark stare at the man across from her.

"Yer friends with this tribade?" the drunk slurred at Caleb. "Don' waste yer time, boy."

Caleb's eyes went wide. He turned to Tazz. "What'd he call you?" In truth, Tazz had no idea what she'd just been called, but by Caleb's reaction, it had been insulting.

"Stuck up little bitch is afraid of men, she is," the drunk continued. "Useless t' men, 'less ye wanna hold 'er down."

"I've been listening to this for five minutes," Tazz muttered, "and it's getting old."

"Want me to deal with it?" Caleb asked, turning his glare on the drunk.

"No, I'll get him soon," Tazz replied.

The drunk scoffed. "Gonna sic yer woman on me, lass?"

Finally, Tazz looked up, and she wasn't happy. "That's it. You think I'm a lesbian because I won't have sex with you? God, you're skewed. Heaven forbid my standards be higher than 'drunk asshole in bar'."

"Oh yeah? What're yer 'standards', then?" the drunk asked.

Tazz slowly got to her feet, glaring at the drunk. As if on cue, the smattering of the crew that was in the bar rose as well, ready in case a brawl broke out.

"You wanna know my standards?" she repeated. "Fine." In one fluid movement, she reached out, grabbed Caleb by the bandanna around his neck, and pulled him down towards her. She had the brief satisfaction of seeing the look of shock on his face before she pressed her mouth to his and closed her eyes.

There was a moment of total silence, then the bar erupted into loud cheers from the crew. Caleb seemed frozen at first, but stumbled forward slightly, leaning further into the kiss. The howls went louder.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tazz and Caleb parted. Caleb had a wild look in his eye that Tazz had never imagined he could possess. At the raucous cries of the crew, she realized they had just made quite a scene. She wanted Caleb, yes, but this wasn't how she's imagined attaining him. She needed to leave and rethink her strategy, right now, before things progressed even further.

With a quick smirk to Caleb, Tazz turned and walked out of the bar. She turned down the road, then ducked down one of the side streets to head back towards the docks.

Hearing heavy footsteps behind her, Tazz turned around just in time to meet Caleb head on.

"What was that?" he asked flatly.

Tazz blinked as innocently as she knew how. "What was what?"

"_That_," he said urgently, pointing back towards the tavern they'd just exited. "Ye _kissed_ me, Devil."

"Oh." Tazz blinked again. "Sorry. I was just making a point."

"And what point would that be?"

Tazz crossed her arms under her chest, biting back a smug grin as his eyes automatically flicked down to her suddenly enhanced cleavage. Oh, this was gonna be _fun_. "My point would be that that idiot in there was not up to my criterion."

Caleb's green eyes, dark almost to black in the starlight, bored into hers. "An' I am?"

She shrugged delicately. "I guess so." Entirely planning on leaving it there and letting him stew for a bit, she turned towards the ship.

_WHAM_.

Tazz stopped short, narrowly missing a collision with the muscular, scarred forearm that suddenly appeared in her field of vision. She realized Caleb had slammed his palms into the wall on either side of her, effectively trapping her between his very solid arms.

Quickly composing herself – such an aggressive move was out of character for him, and she'd be lying if she didn't admit it had startled and maybe even excited her a bit – she turned, leaned casually back against the wall and gave him the best eyebrow she could possibly manage. With both the moonlight and the lantern light behind him, it was hard to read his features.

"Ye drive me to madness," he rumbled, his whole body tense.

The eyebrow climbed higher. "I'm sorry?"

Caleb snorted dryly. "Yer not. Neither am I."

He was silent for a long moment, and Tazz was almost about to ask him to let her go when he spoke again.

"Kiss me proper."

_That_ took her by surprise.

"What?"

"Ye startled me, I could hardly give a good account for meself. I won't have you goin' t' bed tonight thinkin' that's the best I can do." The muscles in his arms shifted as he bent his elbows, coming to rest with his forearms flat against the wall. The move brought his broad body within inches of Tazz's and all the breath left her lungs. "Kiss. Me."

Proudly, Tazz raised her head. "I already have. You kiss _me _this time."

Caleb stared for a moment. Then he huffed out an annoyed breath and descended, capturing her lips much more forcefully than Tazz had anticipated.

She couldn't help it. She moaned like a two-bit whore. The kiss was firm but slow, his lips moving against hers like a force of freakin' nature. When her mouth opened he took his time exploring it, tongue tracing her lips first, then her teeth and the roof of her mouth before finally stroking against her own.

Tazz's hands moved of their own accord, skimming up the rows of muscle on his torso, across powerful shoulders and down to biceps tensed in support of the majority of his weight. Then she went in for the kill, both hands sliding around his neck to tangle in his hair. In one swift move, she changed the angle of his head, closed the gap between their bodies, and began kissing back with everything she had.

She felt the resulting groan vibrate right down to the tips of her toes. Caleb sped up his kiss to an almost ruthless pace, his arms sliding around in the space she'd created between her back and the wall and pulling her tight against him. One reached all the way around the small of her back, his hand resting at her waist on the opposite side. The other lay flat between her shoulder blades, broad hand cradling her skull, the splayed fingers stretching nearly from ear to ear.

Bracing her hands against his shoulders, Tazz raised onto her toes to deepen the kiss, her heart thumping delightedly when his arms automatically tensed to support her weight. She leaned into them gratefully, feeling almost as if she was floating, and bit gently at his lips.

Caleb moaned loudly as his body gave, and they both fell backwards the few inches to the wall. His arms protected her from the brick, but the breath was knocked out of her, and she broke the kiss to gasp. Her eyes flew open to meet his, pupils blown dark with lust, lips glistening, and generally looking thoroughly debauched.

Guilt flashed behind his eyes and he made to remove his weight from her person. She, however, would have none of it, and tugged him back against her. His eyes widened.

She smirked evilly, determined to get the better of him.

"Is that all you've got?" she murmured lowly.

Caleb's lip curled into a snarl, and Tazz had a heart-pounding moment of _oh shit_ before a powerful thigh slammed between her knees, lifting her bodily off the ground and bringing her neck within reach of his mouth. She mewled like a kitten, high and pitiful, as he went to work on the tender spot below her ear. Her outside leg lifted and curled around his back for support as she hung on for dear life, unable to do anything but gasp and squirm and try not to fall over. Her vantage point allowed a beautiful view of the muscles of his shoulder, neck and back, outlined in sharp contrast by the deep shadows. As soon as he moved enough to allow her access, she dove on the tendon in his neck, working it with her lips and teeth as he groaned and went slack against her, face buried in her shoulder. One huge hand came up to steady them against the wall as he laid soft kisses in a line from her throat down towards the neckline of her bodice. Needing better access, he lifted her off the ground entirely, and the pressure from his arm around her back caused her to arch, her breasts lifting towards him. She gasped again as he pressed kisses to all the skin he could reach, occasionally sneaking a teasing kitten-lick under the gathered hemline of her shirt.

"Caleb…" she breathed, unable to think of anything else. Her head fell back against the brick, and her fingers scrabbled against his biceps for support. She felt him grin into her skin and that was _it_, she wanted him naked _now_.

She writhed against him, the movements more and more violent until Caleb got the hint and put her down. As soon as she could use her hands again, she attacked his buttons, licking and sucking at each bit of pale, scarred skin as it was revealed. She was dimly aware of his hips grinding into hers, of the hard thigh pressed against her crotch, of his fingers deftly unlacing her bodice. She was completely _un_aware of the noises she was making, and would have been deeply embarrassed had she been listening to herself.

An unintelligible male shout had them springing apart guiltily. Tazz quickly glanced up and down the street, but there was no one there; the noise must have been from the next street over.

_Dammit_, she thought, studying Caleb. He looked absolutely delectable, half-dressed and shifting foot to foot nervously. His face showed a mixture of shockingly intense lust and adorable, kid-in-the-cookie-jar guilt.

Tazz was the first to look away.

"We should probably head back to the ship," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Caleb nodded wordlessly and they both turned to go. Immediately Tazz stopped, feeling her clothing shift.

"Whoa," she said, catching her unlaced bodice before it fell away from her body entirely. Caleb closed his eyes and let out a strangled little moan. Blushing furiously, Tazz turned her back and quickly rearranged her clothing. To her surprise, she felt Caleb's hands replace her shaking fingers at her ties. He laced her up as skillfully as he had unlaced her. His hands lingered at her waist for a moment, then he gently turned her around and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

Tazz flushed harder and averted her eyes, not sure how she felt about such an affectionate act. When she looked back again, Caleb had finished doing up his buttons and offered her his arm. She blinked, then took it, pleased with the genteel gesture. They slowly made their way back towards the ship.

-

Back the other direction, just around the corner, Jonesy walloped Murdoc in the arm.

"What'd ye do that for?" he asked, annoyed.

Murdoc cocked a brow.

"They were 'bout to get sinful in th' middle o' the street," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What if someone should happen upon them? Tazz would murder them and our Irishman would die o' shame on th' spot. No, 'tis better t' let them have their privacy."

Jonesy crossed his arms and pouted.

"Ye ruin all me fun," he huffed, looking for all the world like a sulking toddler and not like a grown man who had very nearly witnessed two of his best friends getting down and dirty.

Murdoc just chuckled, knowing better than to take Jonesy seriously.

"C'mon, we'd best take th' shortest way back to th' ship. Wouldn't want them gettin' suspicious, now."

Jonesy didn't have time to either agree or argue. Three steps down the road, they heard the _Pearl's_ bell being rung over and over, a call usually reserved for only the most serious of occasions. Without a second though, the two men burst into a full-tilt run, racing through the streets to get back to the _Pearl _as fast as they could.

At the gangplank, they met up with Tazz and Caleb, but all were too concerned about what problem may be at hand to even question the timing. Tazz zigzagged through the crowd of men, all who had come running, and quickly found Jack standing at the helm with Gibbs. He was frowning at a piece of parchment held in his hand, no hint of humor anywhere on his face. After a long, tense minute, he looked up at the crew gathered on deck.

"Gents, our small, blonde problem seems to have turned into a very large, cannon-toting one," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low. He handed Gibbs the parchment, Gibbs immediately bringing it down the stairs so the crew could see.

Tazz jostled for position against everyone else trying to get a peek at what had the captain and first mate so worried. Shouldering her way through, Tazz almost ran straight into Gibbs when she reached the front. With an expression of consternation, he showed her the parchment.

It was a "Wanted" poster, with a sketch of a young girl in the center. Underneath, it read, "Missing. Suspected kidnapped. Return to Lieutenant Thomas Gillette of Port Royal, Jamaica. If possible, capture those responsible for punishment." Tazz's heart nearly stopped, because she knew exactly who the sketch was.

Gabrielle.


End file.
